Frerard OneShots (finished)

XL - Stealer of Hearts (Or Bikes, In This Case)

[i wrote this cuz i was watching a series and someone got beaten up and i had this idea so enjoy but tw for blood ig]

Gerard fidgeted with the end of his sleeves, anxiously biting his lower lip as he walked over to the gang. "Hey, uh," he spoke up when he was just a few feet away from them but they didn't seem to have heard him, "uh, hello?" He tried again, the atmosphere of the dark alley he now was in intimidating him immensely. When one of the guys turned to him to give him a look, his fidgeting got worse. "Hey, uhm," he shrugged, then shoved his hands into his pockets, "I- uh, maybe you guys remember me? I'm not- I'm not... quite sure. Uh, how are you?"

The group consisted of four people and all of them kind of had an aggressive vibe to them from beginning with; Gerard knew he shouldn't be talking to them. Hell, he shouldn't even be in that damn creepy alley. But here he was--just because he wanted his bike back.

"What's your problem, dude?" The second guy asked, taking a step toward Gerard.

"I, uh," he glanced at the bike, then back at the guy, his hands in front of his chest again and picking at his nails, "I want my bike back."

The stranger raised an eyebrow. "Your bike?"

"Uh, yeah," he said, then pointed at the said bike, "that's mine- I had- I had given it to a- a friend. And you guys, you stole it." He met the stranger's gaze. "I'm afraid I'm gonna need it back."

The stranger scoffed. "Look, pal," he said, taking another step forward and Gerard quickly backed away, "I'm afraid you can't have that bike- it's mine. I got it for my birthday."

"Oh, yeah?" Gerard said, and maybe, he was a bit too brave. Granted, he also was an idiot, so he didn't really care.

But courage and dumb-ness never went good together.

So, he took a step forward and tipped his chin up provokingly. "When's your birthday, then?"

The guy gave him a weird look. "October 24th."

He stared back, dumbfounded. "Yeah, that doesn't prove anything, everyone knows their birthday." He rambled, his voice quiet and shaking just the tiniest bit. "Uh, you know what?" He turned halfway. "I'll even get you something for your birthday if you don't punch any of my teeth out right now, deal? Okay, great!" And he rushed off, waving at the group. "I'll see you!"

-

Just two days later, Gerard found himself back in the same situation; he walked back over to the group, this time refraining from fidgeting or biting his nails. He straight up went over to them, trying to seem as confident as possible.

The leader he had already talked to sent him a grin. "Look who's back. How are you?"

"I want my bike back," Gerard said, his voice not even wavering a tiny bit and for a short second, he felt proud of himself.

In the next, the guy went over to him again. "And what if I don't give it to you? What are you gonna do?"

Without thinking, Gerard punched him in the face.

And instantly, he groaned and shook his hand. "Shit," he said, flexing his hand, "didn't think it'd hurt that much-"

Of course, the guy punched back; with a lot more force, making Gerard fall instantly and hit his head on the concrete below. He already covered his head to diminish the possible damage that would come with the next hits; his nose was probably already broken, his lip had busted open, and at least one of his teeth had gotten punched out.

But the next kicks and hits never came.

And when he looked up, there he lay--just a foot away from him lay the guy who had punched him; a short guy sat on his belly, hitting him over and over again in the face. The other three had already taken off, probably calling for backup.

And only when the gang leader begged the short guy to stop, he actually did. So, the short punk got up, hissed a last warning at the stranger and spat on the ground in front of him, then went over to Gerard to help him up. "Hey, are you okay?"

"I-" Gerard took a deep breath and spat his tooth onto the ground, then sat up slightly, "yeah, no, I'm fine. Thank you."

"Are you sure?" The short guy reached a hand with bruised knuckles out to help him to his feet which he accepted gratefully. "You don't seem fine- I'm Frank, by the way."

Gerard wiped his bloody nose with his sleeve, then sniffed a bit. "Yeah, I- I'll get over it. Thank you, Frank." When his head started spinning, he squinted his eyes to get them to focus and massaged his temple with his free hand. "Woah, I don't remember sitting in a round-about."

"You're not," Frank deadpanned, not letting go of the stranger who probably would be pretty if his face wasn't covered in his own blood. "You should go see a doctor."

"I'm-" he cut himself off and covered his mouth when he thought he'd to puke. After taking a deep breath, he stood up straight. "Yeah, maybe I should."

"Let me get you to the hospital, hm?" Slowly, Frank took a step forward, holding Gerard at his shoulders. "What's your name?"

"Gerard," he said, sending a small grin into the stranger's direction and showing his bloodied teeth.

Frank sent a grin back. "You know, even with a broken nose, you're really pretty."

He smiled again, his blush thankfully covered by the blood. "Thank you, you're also pretty attractive- wow, that would be a good getting together story; falling in love with the guy who saved you from getting beat up by some people that stole your bike." When Frank raised an eyebrow at him, he stumbled over his next words. "I mean- not in like, the way that you'd be- you know, I was just- I'm-"

"Gee," Frank laughed, amused by his flustered behavior, "it's okay, I'd like to go out with you someday. You seem like a pretty cute guy. And, as you said, we already have a quite cool getting-together-story." He sent him another grin. "But for now, let's just get you to the hospital, I think you could have a concussion."