Guns For Roses (Frerard)

Chapter 6

Fun story: my brother was looking for his water and I was like "bro I just take any water bottle and drink it no matter who it belongs to, so I might've taken yours" and he went "yeah, that's your problem, you're always thirsty" and I just looked at him and he goes "I'm not wrong"

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I woke up with a quiet groan, stretching my arms out and rotating my wrists to pop them.

"Hey." Frank said casually from the other bed.

"Hey." I sat up, rubbing my eyes. I was only in my boxers, but I didn't really care. I mean, we fucked. Why should I care?

He didn't say anything more, so I looked over at him. He was dressed only in his jeans, and though his tattoos were literally the kryptonite I didn't know I had, it wasn't as immobilizing as it had been the day before.

But I also noticed he looked tired, like he didn't sleep much.

"You okay?" I asked, throwing my legs over the side of the bed.

"Yeah." He nodded, avoiding my eyes.

When in doubt, use humor.

"I didn't hurt you last night, did I?" I joked, standing up.

He almost looked... relieved? And he smiled, looking up at me. "Well, kinda. You fucking bruised my ass."

Did he think that I'd pretend nothing happened? Why?

"I couldn't even get fully dressed." He said, falling backward to his pillow with his eyes closed. "I'm sore."

"And regretful?" I asked, hoping he didn't regret it. But, I mean, it would be totally fine if he did though.

"No, actually." He said, laying his hands underneath his head.

"You're welcome." I grinned, digging into my bag.

"It was my pleasure. Believe me." He said with a dry laugh. He turned his head to look at me. "What are you looking for?"

I pulled out the Ibuprofen and turned to face him with a grin, shaking the bottle. "Something for that bruised little ass of yours."

He reached his hand out and I tossed it to him, he caught it perfectly.

"Thanks." He sat up (winced doing so), and popped it open.

I dug back into my bag and took out my pills, and I took one without water. It was bitter, but nothing I wasn't used to. I wet my lips and looked over to Frank, who was looking down in the general direction of my bag. He was thinking about something, but I couldn't tell what. He had a bit of a blank expression on his face.

"You good?" I asked.

He nodded blankly, looking up at me. "Fine. You?"

"Fine." I agreed. I closed up my bag and tossed it to the head of my bed before turning to look around the messy floor. "Where the fuck are my clothes?"

"Uh, yes." He said, gesturing around the room.

I snorted and bent over to pick up my jeans. When I got up again, I looked over at Frank, and he quickly looked away from me, looking a little guilty.

I brushed it off, thinking nothing of it, and I pulled my jeans on, not bothering with the shirt on the floor nearby (it had some stuff on it).

"Where's the beer I didn't finish last night?" I asked, scanning the tabletops.

"I finished it." He said, looking over at me. "Is that okay?"