I Don't Think We Should See Each Other Anymore (Frerard) (slow updates)

Chapter 7 (F/G)

[they talk a lot about their past in this chapter so like about the breakup and stuff and also Frank's accident so here's your warning, stay safe y'all]

Frank's feet made a light tip-tap sound when he walked in socks over the linoleum. His hands, he had in front of him, fidgeting with the sleeves of Ray's hoodie.

In the living room, Gerard sat on the couch; a controller in his hands, a pair of headphones sitting on his ears, and his gaze fixated on the TV. He hastily pressed some buttons and clenched his teeth as he tried not to let his game character die.

Frank thought it was hot.

"Fucking- shit!" He threw the controller onto the table when the screen showed 'GAME OVER' in bold letters. "Why don't you just shoot him? That's what you're supposed to do, you shithead!" For a second, he held the side of his headphones. "Listen now, you pretentious twat. You sound like a twelve-year-old who's mommy is making him dino nuggets right now and-" he stopped, listened, then put the headphones down, picked the controller up, and ended the game.

Frank cleared his throat and Gerard quickly turned to him, then smiled. "Oh, hey, Frankie." He looked him up and down once and for some reason, the hoodie Frank was wearing felt familiar. But he didn't say anything and sent him another smile.

"Hi," he said, taking hesitant steps forward and then sitting down next to Gerard with enough space between the two. "Listen," he said, letting out a breath, "I know it was shitty of me to leave and I feel really fucking bad for doing so a- and I wanna make it up to you. Please don't take it personally, I know it was bullshit- just, let me make it up to you?" With a hopeful expression, he met Gerard's gaze. "I'll do anything, please."

Gerard raised an eyebrow. "Anything?"

Reluctantly, Frank nodded. "Anything. I promise."

"Okay, first," he pressed some buttons, "I'm not making you do anything you don't wanna do, that's obvious, right?" Frank nodded silently. "Good. Secondly, I just want you to answer my questions honestly. Okay?" Again, Frank nodded. "Great. And the last thing; I want my phone."

"Oh, uh, sure. Sorry for- for taking it- it was dark and I thought it was mine." With shaky hands, Frank fished the phone out of the hoodie's pocket and set it down on the table.

Gerard finally turned the TV off, and fully turned to Frank, one leg dangling off the couch and the other pulled to his chest. "Why did you leave in the first place?" His voice was steady and cold, silently judging Frank for his cowardice.

"I-" Frank gulped and let his head fall, fiddling with his sleeves again. "I panicked because- because you're so pretty and nice and- and I don't know why but I- I don't- I-" Again, he gulped, and he knew he'd never finish his sentence, so he didn't even try to. Instead, he just waited for Gerard to say something- anything.

Gerard knew he was supposed to be patient because this was obviously taking a lot of courage for Frank but he found himself waiting for an explanation. And slowly, he was getting impatient- maybe even angry.

Instead of pushing that topic further though, Gerard decided to ask something else that had been nagging him. "You said you wanted to make out with me but you didn't actually want that, did you?" Frank just silently shook his head. "Then why did you ask?"

"Because I don't trust you."

And only when Frank looked up did he realize what he had actually said.

And, really, those words hurt Gerard more than they probably should have.

"I- I mean," Frank instantly went to correct his mistake, "we've been apart for so long a- and I just- I need this reassurance that you- well, that you're serious about this- about us," he glanced up shortly, then looked back into his lap, "I'm sorry if that's rude and I'd totally get it if you'd want me to leave."