Bad Idea! ✐ FRERARD

✩ HIGH SCHOOL MUSICAL DATE ✩

       "FRANK, I'TS BEEN fifteen minutes since you called the Uber. Get the fuck outta here before it leaves without you." Gerard laughed as he pushed back Frank who had been carefully playing with his hair as his head laid in Frank's lap.

"Fuckin' fine," Frank muttered, "You don't even have the curtesy to walk me to my apartment."

Gerard rolled his eyes, "I'm sure you'll manage."

Frank ignored his words as he reluctantly shifted Gerard's head off of his lap. He reached for his crutches and hoisted himself up so that he was supported them. Before he turned to face the door, he glanced back at Gerard who was looking at him almost timidly. Frank had actually noticed how different Gerard's coy persona was now that he had openly said he liked Frank. Of course he had said it before, but it felt different this time.

It was different, Frank supposed. Because now they had taken the step, or rather, Frank had practically pleaded Gerard to take it for them.

"I'll... call you?" Frank asked quietly, and Gerard nodded with his bottom lip between his teeth.

"I'd fucking hope so," Gerard smiled, "It's not like you have other shit to do."

Frank raised an eyebrow, "Ouch."

Gerard just grinned, "Be careful crossing the street, Shitero."

"Be careful getting to work with two hours of sleep, Geraldine." Frank said back, Gerard only sticking his tongue out at him.

And only a few moments later Frank was finally walking off towards the door, trying his hardest not to turn back around and be with Gerard once again.

And once he was finally out of the apartment though, he couldn't help but feel his toes curl in pride.

He had done it.

✩ ✩

"You have thirty seconds before I kill you with your own crutches."

That was the first thing Bob said when Frank delicately closed the door to their apartment.

Frank turned around with a blank expression, "Pardon?"

"Where the fuck were you?" Bob asked loudly, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Out." Frank mumbled, going to walk to his bedroom when Bob pulled him back by his shirt, nearly making him topple over with his crutches.

"Out? You were out? Frank, I thought you left to kill yourself!" Bob yelled, and Frank's chest felt like it was being burned with an iron.

"I wouldn't do that..." Frank whispered, but Bob just scoffed loudly.

"Where were you?" Bob asked again, this time letting go of his harsh hold on Frank's shirt.

"I was going to a gun range—"

"A gun range?" Bob asked incredulously, "Frank, do you know how fucking stupid and dangerous that is? You could have gotten seriously hurt, and-"

"But I didn't actually go," Frank cut him off quietly, "I... I was but then I got into an argument with someone and... we talked,"

Bob raised an eyebrow, "And? What then?"

Frank bit his lip as he looked away, a faint blush searing through his cheeks. "I... I told this guy that I liked him,"