Bad Idea! ✐ FRERARD

✩ IMPULSE ✩

★ not edited ★

W A R N I N G :

• semi-graphic mentions of gun violence
• this chapter isn't too accurate with the formalities of this given situation <this makes sense later on>
• [feel free to private message me if you want to know what happens without reading since it is a bit uncomfortable / but not too visual i promise] you can read until the setting change

★

      UPSET WOULD HAVE been a very generous understatement for what Frank was feeling.

He felt like shit, and he had even taken a few days off of work to just wallow in his room. He had been ignoring Bob's advice of helping him make dinner to cool off a bit, instead choosing to roll around on his mattress and yell profanities into his pillow.

Though he could decidedly say that he wasn't all that sad anymore, he was, as most would have guessed... slightly pissed off.

With good reason Frank defended, because he never thought Gerard of all people would make him feel as much of a fool as he did at that moment. This was why he didn't get involved with grummy feelings. They just came back o bite him in the ass... and mess with his already quite jumbled head.

"Ay, dickhead come eat dinner!" Bob yelled from the kitchen, making Frank groan as he rubbed his face.

He clambered off the bed, not bothering to tame his incredibly terrible bedhead as he walked into the living room, rubbing his eyes.

"You look like shit, dude." Bob said in an almost concerned voice, making Frank nod along sarcastically.

Frank rubbed his neck as he took a fork full of salad and pressed it to his lips, tiredly taking a bite.

"Just thought I'd let you know I'm going to the Berkshires with Ells for the next week." Bob said with a small smile, "It's our anniversary... so, y'know."

"Yeah, you wanna plow your girlfriend in private. I get it." Frank said quietly, a bitter tone lacing his words.

"Frank, what's wrong?" Bob asked with a sigh, "You've been like this for almost a week now and it can't be because of your weird sex thing. That's insane."

Frank sighed in annoyance, "I really don't wanna talk about it, Bob."

"I think it would help." Bob said regardless, taking a bite of his own salad.

Frank was silent for a moment before he spoke quietly, his tone airy and almost defeated.

"I can't... stop thinking about him." Frank mumbled into his palm, "And it's so fucking annoying because... I know he isn't thinking about me. So I'm just sat here, like a fucking idiot, eating salad and thinking about a guy that doesn't even like me enough to not call me Shitero."

When he looked up he was met with Bob's once again unnecessary sympathetic face, making a small part of him angry, but weirdly the most part of him... didn't mind it. For once, Frank didn't have the means to be so critical towards Bob. His tiredness had made him hang limp like wet laundry on a cold still day. When he had woken up that morning, he felt as if every muscle was giving into gravity. What he had wanted was sleep, a nice warm bed and a solid night of planeness, but of course Gerard- or rather the memory of Gerard hadn't allowed it. So if he had to, he'd rate Bob's concern on a scale of one to ten, he would give it a solid eight and a half.

"Frank, you're not an idiot for caring about someone." Bob said quietly, making Frank just scoff lightly. "It doesn't... matter if maybe they can't return the sentiment. Of course, it's really fucking upsetting, but you don't have to be so hard on yourself."