Falling (Frerard, sequel to Drowning)

0.50 (Special chapter)

THANKS SR-PictureShow for writing this for me!! You all should check out her frerard fic b/c it makes me bust a nut

"Like truth or dare." His expression gives way to a grin. I don't see what's there to smile about.

"With just the two of us?" I ask warily. "Are you sure that's—"

"Truth or dare?"

I want to groan. Okay, so my input doesn't matter. "Truth," I say, either because I'm a coward, or because I'm just not getting into the spirit of this game. I couldn't tell you whether I'm the kind of person who picks 'truth' or 'dare' religiously, simply because I haven't played enough.

"Alright, playing it safe, I see." I never get why people say things like that. Why get ridiculed for choosing 'truth' when it's not your fault that it's an option? Why not just play dare or dare? He thinks for a moment, from his spot on the floor. Then it's obvious when he comes up with something, because his eyes light up and he's quick to look at me. "Who's the hottest person you've ever seen? Can be dead or alive, celebrity or normal person. Go."

I know my cheeks are going to turn red even before they actually do. "Uh." I put my head down and bring my hand to my face to study my fingernails. "Next question?"

"Oh, c'mon!" At first I think he's genuinely angry, but when I look up, he's got this playful smile on his face. "Is everything a touchy subject for you, Gerard Way?"

I know my blush deepens, because it burns now. "It's not a touchy subject," I assure him, "it's just... ah." I look up at Frank, hoping he'll change the subject, but he's just looking back at me expectantly. It's painful to realize that I've backed myself into a corner and have to tell the truth now. Why couldn't I have lied and said Britney Spears or something?

"It's just what?" Frank asks.

I have to look down. I can't meet his eyes. "Uh, it's... not a woman."

"Gerard." I continue inspecting my fingernails. "Gerard, look at me." There's nothing to do besides look at him.

His eyes seem to sparkle. "Gerard, I don't care." He leans closer to me. "Do you know why I don't care?"

I gulp. Eye contact has never been my forté, and it's hurting me to maintain it for so long. "Why?"

"I'm gay."

I don't mean to act surprised, but I do, covering my mouth, widening my eyes and all. "You're what?" I really want to be cool about this, but it's difficult, because Frank is about the last person I'd expect to be gay. There's some indescribable, 'lady killer' vibe he gives off.

"C'mon. Don't make it weird, man," Frank says. "Who's your person?"

"Do your parents know?" I go on. I can't help it. When my dad found copies of Playgirl under my bed, he locked me outside for a full night. Sexuality has never been a huge deal for me, as throughout my life, no one wanted to date me, regardless of gender.

"No," Frank says. He brings his knees up to his chest. "They're cool, I mean. It's not like they'd care or be mad, but I just think it'd be weird anyway, you know? Now, tell me, who's your person?"

Despite what Frank has just told me, I still blush. "Marlon Brando."

Frank looks down, like he's disappointed. I furrow my eyebrows to indicate confusion, and he looks up at me with a light smile. "I can't compete. I'm no Marlon Brando."

"Truth or dare?" I ask before I can fully comprehend what he just said. Was he flirting with me? Is he implying that I wouldn't be interested in him? My heart begins to pound in my chest.

"Dare," Frank says with a sly grin. "I'm not a pussy."

"Okay, um." I can't stand being under his gaze for so long. What if he gets a good look at my face and realizes how ugly I am? I rack my brain for any dare at all.