𝖇𝖚𝖗𝖓 𝖒𝖞 𝖑𝖚𝖓𝖌𝖘 | 𝖋𝖗𝖊𝖗𝖆𝖗𝖉 𝖆𝖚

ii

Gerard's POV

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Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God, oh my God, that did not just happen.

I quickly walked down the street, trying to get home as soon as I possibly could so I could just faceplant onto my bed and absorb everything that just happened.

I looked down at the paper that the man from the café, that I now knew as Frank, had torn from his notepad and given me. I beamed, rereading the numbers on it over and over again, occassionally running into people walking in the opposite direction, receiving a couple rude remarks along the lines of, "Hey, watch it, jackass!".

Unlike any other day, though, I didn't really notice them. All I was focusing on was the piece of paper in my hand.

Before I knew it, I had made it back to my apartment. I unlocked the front door, quickly walking inside and shutting it behind me, the familiar aroma of acrylic paints and scented candles overwhelming my senses.

I had shut off all the lights before I left, so it was very dark in my apartment, but I didn't care; I blindly made my way to my bedroom, tripping over various items of clothing on the way there.

I stumbled over to my bed, the sheets covered in paint stains and art supplies. I usually didn't end up sleeping on my bed; I normally sleep on the couch. I'm just too lazy to actually clean the sheets. And the pillowcases. And the carpet. And my drawers. And the- okay, yeah, I'm too lazy to clean my entire room in general, so I keep it messy and just call it my art room so there's an excuse as to why everything's covered in paint stains and pencil shavings. I'll clean it up some day.

I hated to even think it, but I was honestly kinda happy that Mikey got fired. I mean, he deserved it anyways.

Pro tip: Don't be a smart ass to your boss, and maybe you'll be able to keep your job for more than a week.

I sat down on my bed, smiling down at the torn piece of paper in my hands. 'Maybe I should text him,' I thought, but then remembered that he was working and I shouldn't distract him. Wow, I was extremely unprepared.

The last time someone gave me their number was in highschool. And it was some popular bitch trying to playing a cruel prank on me because yes, I was just that desperate. She even knew I was gay, too! But that's all beside the point.

"Fuck it, I'm just gonna text him," I mumbled to myself with an exasperated sigh. "What's the worst that could happen?"

Then I stopped.

Oh God, I could fuck this up in so many ways if I did this wrong. I didn't want to lose this gorgeous man who thought I was worthy enough to give his phone number to. Was that creepy? Jesus Christ, I was desperate.

I shook my head, ignoring my paranoid thoughts. I pulled out my phone, shakily entering my passcode before carefully entering his number into it.

Step 1: Open Phone complete!

I let out a shaky sigh, my foot tapping against the floor nervously as I stared down at the screen. The longer I looked at the empty text box, the scarier this whole thing got.

I typed random letters into the box just so I could say that I was making progess in my mission. Then, I hit send.

Step 2: Procrastination complete!

Fuck, wait-

Step 3: Utter and Complete Embarrassment complete!

"No, no, no, no, oh God, why are you such a fuck up?" I muttered to myself, running a hand through my hair as my face went red.

'wait i didn't mean to send that,' I typed quickly, not bothering to use proper grammar.

He probably didn't even know who was texting him. Maybe I should tell him. I groaned, knowing I was just digging myself into a hole as I typed.

'this is gerard, by the way. the one from the café that you thought it was a good idea to give your number to.'

Send.

'wait that sounded like a threat i swear im not gonna kill you oh god'

Send.

'wow this is why im a virgin'

Send.

'oh mY GOD STOP ME IM SORRY'

Send.

I threw my phone off to the side and pulled my knees up to my chest, not wanting to ever leave my room again.

Step 4: What The Fuck Did You Just Do complete!

 I stayed like this for a couple minutes, my face bright red and intrusive, stupid thoughts running through my head until I heard a muffled buzz come from my phone. No fucking way.

I hesitantly glanced over in the general direction to where I had thrown my phone, seeing a blinking, blue light come from it, which meant that I had a text.

I carefully reached over and grabbed my phone, turning it on before seeing a notification that I had gotten a text from none other than Lindsey Ballato.

'Hiiii can I come over and eat your leftovers from last night? Theres literally nothing to eat here and I think Im going to die.'

I groaned, letting out a breath that I didn't know I was holding before typing back.

'you actually liked the food there? whatever, sure, i need someone to scream to anyway.'

I sighed, rolling my eyes and plopping backwards onto my bed, chucking my phone across the room somewhere.

"Please, God, don't let him get those texts."

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A/N: yo its been like eight years since ive been on wattpad but i just had a random stroke of inspiration so heres this draft that i never finished that i decided on finishing today

happy thanksgiving fuckers