The Man I Know I'm Not [Frerard] (Sequel To Tell Me I'm A Bad Man)

Two - Give Me More But It's Not Enough

When I woke up, not only was it the middle of the night, but Gerard wasn't in bed and I needed to pee.

I took care of the peeing problem first, shuffling to the bathroom in the near-darkness, wearing nothing but sweatpants. I closed the door behind me and did my business, still half-asleep. After, I washed my hands, avoided looking in the mirror, and proceeded to shuffle back to Gerard's room.

But I bumped into someone on the way, and I scowled when I realised that it was Bert. His eyes widened, apparently surprised by my facial expression, though I didn't know why. I thought it was pretty clear how I felt about him.

"Where's Gerard?" I said, not even trying to keep the edge out of my voice.

"Went back to his room." He replied quietly. I brushed past him, and I heard him turn around. "Um. Frank?"

I faced him, my eyes narrowing. "What?"

"Do - do you think you could be a - a little quieter, when, y'know..." His cheeks tinted red, and I smirked, knowing what he was getting at.

"Sorry, am I too loud?" He nodded, refusing to look at me, and I laughed harshly. "My bad. Gerard's just that good."

And with that, I continued down the hallway to Gerard's room.

Even with my stuff in there, it didn't feel like my room too. I knew it would take time to get used to the fact that it wasn't just a week-long visit. It was forever.

Gerard was in bed, the lamp on, with his sketchpad on his lap and a coffee in his right hand. He glanced up when I closed the door, smiling a little.

"Hey, you. I wondered where you'd got to." He said, placing his mug on the nightstand as I climbed into bed.

"I was thinking the same thing about you when I needed to pee." I curled up beside him, my head on his shoulder, watching him draw.

He grimaced. "Woke up, needed coffee. When I was in the kitchen, Bert wanted to talk to me." He didn't look like he was going to say anymore, so I sighed, resting a hand on his thigh beneath the sheets.

"What are you drawing?" I asked, my hand slipping beneath his pajama pants and touching the warm skin of his leg.

"Take a wild guess."

I took a closer look, feeling a blush rise on my face as I realised that he'd been drawing me. "Why are you so good at everything art-related?" I almost whined, burying my face in the crook of his neck. "Why are you so warm? Why do you smell so good? Why, Gerard? Why?"

"Someone's tired." He teased, setting his drawing on the nightstand and picking up his coffee. "You need sleep; it's like three a.m."

"You're not sleeping."

"I'm older. I don't need to sleep."

"Yes you do, old man." I poked his arm with my free hand, the one that wasn't down his pants stroking his upper thigh like it was the most normal thing in the world. "You have work later."

"Unfortunately." He set his empty mug on the nightstand and turned the lamp off, lying down. I lay down with him, wrapping my arms around his waist and letting him pull me closer. "But it's my last day before the summer - and aside from a couple of summer classes something like twice a week, I'm all yours until September."

"Mm, that sounds good." His fingers stroked my hair, his cheek on the top of my head, and it was extremely comfortable. "Hey, Gee?" I said a minute or so later, breaking the silence.