Parisian Hearts // Frerard

5

"I need to go into my room."

It had been almost twelve hours since the heated exchange in the living room had gone down, and Frank was still sulking in the basement, that doubled as the room he shared with Gerard. The brothers had been scared at first, that they might get in proper trouble. Frank had turned a bling eye to lots of little things; a broken curfew here, an extra ration portion Mikey hadn't stolen from the supply truck there. But it all adds up.

And if Frank decided to dob them in for all these 'little' things, because he was upset with Gerard, they boys were in deep shit.

"You can jerk off in my room, Gee."

"Mikey!" Gerard swatted his brother's arm, an action that didn't have any effect on the smirk Mikey was wearing.

"What!" He replied, mocking his brother's tone. They locked eyes for a moment, dead silent, before erupting into a fit of laughter.

Nothing was particularly funny; but care-free and humorous moments were far and few nowadays, and no one would let one pass unnoticed.

"It's good to laugh." Gerard said to Mikey, smiling a little.

"Yeah." Mikey replied, patting his brother's shoulder. "It is."

Gerard sat down at the kitchen table, resting his head on his hands, and for a split second, he could've sworn things were going ok. That maybe there weren't a bunch of fascists patrolling the streets, and there was no German in his basement, and that he didn't need to fight to be respected and loved.

"Don't get too comfortable." Mikey pulled out a chair so he could sit across from his brother, with the intent of having a serious conversation. "You still have the cranky-pants in the basement to look after."

"It looks like I'll be sleeping on the couch tonight." Gerard said with a sigh, sinking further down into his chair.

"Don't try to talk to him. You've gotta look after yourself." Mikey had stopped smiling, but his eyes were still kind. He worried about his brother, probably too much, but he was never one to leave a situation unresolved.

"I wasn't going to," he replied, shaking his head.

"I'm proud of you, Gee." Gerard nodded at his brother, standing up from the table. 

"Yeah." He didn't know why Mikey would be proud of him.

He decided he needed to take a walk.

Gerard waltzed out of the house, nodding when Mikey asked what time he'd be home. He didn't know, so it didn't make sense that Mikey should.

The evening was crisp and young, a nice contrast to the thick atmosphere of the house. It was a good place for head clearing. Or at least that's what Gerard told himself.

There were so many thoughts overwhelming his senses, he didn't know quite how to start processing everything. Frank was a puzzle he was yet to start piecing together; he was meant to hate him, and he hated the Nazis, and the war, and he hated the part Frank had to play in it, but Frank didn't seem like the rest. 

He'd been lenient with the rules, something Gerard had only seen happen between a german soldier and the woman they were screwing; but he'd always made a point of reminding the Way brothers just how much better than them he was.

But today with Günter, he'd seen a new side of Frank's humanity. He showed genuine remorse. Gerard could've sworn he'd seen him flinch when Günter called him names, called him a fairy. Maybe he was.

But Gerard couldn't get his hopes up for a German. He wouldn't do that to Mikey, and he wouldn't do it too himself.

It would end in tears. 

And even with Frank out of the picture, life was still getting complicated.

At the university, there was talk of an invasion, one that would end the war. The brits were nearly ready, but there was still speculation as to when and where. But the new buzz meant more late nights, higher stakes, and a much greater risk of being caught. 

It was too much years ago; but now it felt like more than anyone could ever handle.

He looked up, breaking his stream of consciousness, and found himself outside a molly house. He'd only been in once, before the war started, and as soon as he tried to order a drink he was kicked out for being fifteen.

Now, at nineteen years of age, it was completely legal to enter. Socially frowned upon, and not technically legal under the Nazi regime, but Gerard way wasn't German, so the only laws he'd be following were French.

Inside, the light was hazy, and the stench of smoke and cheap beer plagued the air. No one noticed as he slipped through the tables and stools, finding a place at the bar. 

The bar tender looked at him with sad eyes, and put a glass of beer down in front of him. Gerard didn't have any money, but the old man didn't seem to mind. 

You did what you could to protect your own. And everyone understood that.

He stared into the beer. It wasn't the first time he'd drank, but it was the first time he'd had one for himself. He'd sometimes share a glass with Mikey at the meetings if they could score a bottle, but never enough to get drunk. But tonight was long and emotionally draining, or at least, Gerard assumed it would be. Might as well get hammered instead of coping with his emotions like a sensible adult.

After his second glass, a man slid into the seat next to Gerard.

"Can I do anything for you, honey?" He slurred, placing a hand on Gerard's thigh. "You're a pretty boy, whaddaya doin' here, wasting away, just waiting for the Bosche to raid the place and shoot you. You're too pretty for that."

Gerard blushed, unsure of how to react to the attention. He'd never been flirted with; no one was homosexual, or even if they were, out. He wasn't even sure if he was a fairy or not, he was just happy admiring young men from afar. Maybe he'd have a wife, maybe he'd have a boyfriend.

But for now, he'd relish in the low standards of this unfortunate looking drunkard.

"I'm Jacques, by the way." His breath smelt of the same cheap beer every man in the room was drinking. "Do you have a name, mon cherie?" 

"Gerard." He replied, placing his hand on the man's.

"Nice name for a nice face." Gerard giggled at the man's words, waving at the bartender to bring him another beer.

He was in for a wild ride. 

A/N

greetings readers

no frerard yet but can you feel it building? is chapter five too early for major plot development? if i got any criticism would i actually listen to it or cry? 

find out next time if you like the book enough to read the next chapter.

anyway that's alllllllllll

song i'm listening to: omaha by counting crows

xx la