Demolition Lovers - Frerard

Chapter One

Franks POV
Sometimes you don’t know you want something until its put right in front of you. Then when this thing is taken away from you, it only makes you want it more. Maybe because there’s this mystery about it, this ‘I know I can’t have it, but fucking hell I want it’ kind of feeling. He was like that. This feeling, was like that, and for some reason he felt off limits to me. Like maybe if I touched him wrong he’d shatter, or said something wrong he’d leave me, or that I hurt him in some way, his brother would probably kill me. Maybe I made myself think he was off limits so I wouldn’t get close enough to fuck it up, to fuck up whatever it was we had together. But I know that even if there was police tape between myself and him, that if he were a crime scene, I’d jump the tape just to be closer to him, because this feeling, this feeling that makes me feel so alive, and yet so fucking lonely at the same time, is too much to even be able to understand unless I’m near him. And when I’m near him my entire world finally makes sense.

***

“Frank, what the actual fuck?”

“What?”

“What do you mean what? There is no food in the house, like at all, there are no clean dishes, and you’re not even wearing any pants.” Pete had just gotten back from being away all weekend at one of our friend’s places. There had been a party at his house and I hadn’t gone, much to my roommate's distress.

“Well, it’s kind of a funny story that, I was gonna go to the shops, right? But I couldn’t find any clean jeans, and yours are too small for me, and you know, you can’t just leave the house without pants.” Pete looked at me for a moment before shaking his head and turning around to wash the dishes I’d neglected.

We’ve lived together for the past three years, and been best friends for even longer. He was the only reason anything ever got done in this house; dishes, washing, shopping, me putting shirts on when someone came over, everything. I could hear Pete muttering something angrily as he washed the dishes.

“So, how was the party? Anyone cute?” I asked.

“Dude you missed out, like, big time. Literally hot people everywhere. Like, I’m not even kidding. And I met this guy called Mikey as well, and fuck me, he was on a whole new level of hot,” Pete said enthusiastically, turning around from the sink to face me. “I may or may not have gotten his number as well,” he said with a smirk.

“Ooh, did you get any pictures?” He nodded and wiped his soapy hands on his jeans before pulling his phone out of his pocket and sitting next to me on the couch.

“I got a couple of pictures of the two of us,” He pulled up a picture of himself and another guy, Mikey, who was wearing a black beanie, and had big square glasses on.

“Oh my god, you were right, do you mind if I steal him?” I asked elbowing Pete in the ribs.

“Piss off, Frank. You’re the one who refused to come to the party with me, thus, missing out on the chance of getting his number,” He said and pushed me gently. “Anyway, Mikey’s having a party in a couple of weeks’ time and he invited me and said I could bring someone along, and seeing as though you refused to go to Andy and Patrick’s, you have to come to Mikey’s with me,” He said with a smile before getting up and walking down to his room. “Oh and can you please do some shopping? I’m hungry as fuck.”

After digging through the bottom of my drawers for half an hour or so, I finally found a pair of faded blue jeans from god knows when, and put them on with a reasonably clean shirt. I knocked on Pete’s door to ask if he had any special requests for food from the shops, and received a delayed response.

“Bread, milk, noodles, pasta, ooh and bring me back a pasty or something like that,” he said, getting way too excited about the idea of pasties.

“Yeah, yeah, nothing else?” I asked, and Pete just shook his head in response. “All right, I’ll be back soon,” I said, before walking out and closing the door behind me.

“Oh yeah, and Frank?” Pete called.

“Yeah?” I said, opening the door again.

“Cute jeans,” he said playfully.

“Fuck off, asshole.”

“Honey I’m home!” I called out, jokingly, when I got home.

“Did you bring me my pasty?” Pete questioned distractedly from the couch, glancing up from his phone.

“Of course I did, as well as a bunch of other crap,” I spoke as I handed him his pasty and walked to the kitchen to unpack the shopping.

“Oh, hey. Good news, Mikey invited me out to get coffee some time,” Pete announced monotonously, not very excited at all.

“Dude, I thought you’d be more excited? You seem too really like this guy?” Usually, Pete got way more excited about dates than this, and I would’ve thought he’d be pumped about it, especially because he was so enthusiastic earlier about meeting him and getting his number.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m looking forward to it, it’s just that he wants to meet at the café where one of my exes work.” I could see he was uncomfortable about it but I didn’t get why he was so weird about it. Usually he was cool about seeing exes around, for the most part he ended on good terms with them, or had become friends with them since the breakup.

“I still don’t get it? Like what’s the issue with seeing an ex?”

“The issue is its Emily. Do you see my problem now? I don’t want to see that bitch ever again,” Pete had raised his voice slightly. We had an unspoken rule that we do not, under any circumstances, talk about her. Pete and Emily had been together for the majority of two years, and the entire time she had him wrapped around her fucking finger, he fucking loved her to pieces, and she just fucked him over repeatedly. Used him for money, sex, whatever she needed, Pete was there for her use, and she also cheated on him for over half the time they were together.

“Fuck, man. Can’t you say there’s somewhere else you know that’s better or something?” I suggested dejectedly.

“It’s his favourite café, and he really wants to take me there,” he said.

“I guess all you can do then is hope she’s not working.” Pete shrugged and looked like everything came back, just thinking about her, and the possibility of seeing her.