Frerard OneShots (finished)

LXXVI - Boulevard Montmartre

[okay it is 12am, i have had a headache for the past 16 hours, i cant sleep, and this has been sitting in my drafts for literal months so. youre getting this now. super short but i honestly dont have the nerve to finish this, so enjoú]

The sky above Boulevard Montmartre had a dark, almost scary color on this particular night. The only light brightening the streets came from the restaurant to the left.

The streets were still damp from the rain, mirroring the shadows of the people walking past. Most of them were rushing; they probably wanted to get home quick, maybe they had been working and needed a cup of tea and a good book to relax.

Others were quite slow; they strolled over the Boulevard as if they had all the time in the world.

And others sat at the tables of the restaurant which's lights brightened up the sky just the tiniest bit; most of them if not all were young couples on their first or second date. The candles on the table spread a calming and romantic vibe which made the evening almost too perfect for those couples.

On one of the tables though sat a young man, all by himself. He had short, black hair that barely reached the corners of his eyes, and he held a wine glass that was filled halfway with red wine.

His name was Frank, and he didn't know anymore why he was even there. Well, he knew why; his boyfriend had to go to Paris for work-related things, and took Frank with him for those two weeks but now, he was nowhere to be found. That wouldn't have been a problem if it wasn't their two-year-anniversary, for fuck's sake. He had promised Frank they'd go out and at least have a nice dinner, but then bailed on him.

Again.

It wasn't as if that was the first time something like that had happened.

Frank snapped out of his thoughts when someone gently knocked on the table. In front of him now stood a guy his age with beautiful, shoulder-length black hair, a crooked smile, and pretty hazel eyes. "Uh, excusez-moi, tu parles Français, no?"

For a second, Frank just blinked at him in confusion. "Uh, un petit peu?"

The guy gave him a look somewhere between confusion and pity. "Est-ce que tu parles Anglais?"

"Anglais?" Frank repeated; the French he had had in high school was probably not enough for this, he reckoned.

"Do you speak English?" The guy finally asked; in perfect English, without the hint of an accent.

That was a bit too much for Frank and he felt his brain stop. "Uh, yeah? I do?"

"Oh, great." The stranger sighed in relief, then pointed to the chair opposite Frank. "May I?"

And Frank didn't know what to say because, on the one hand, he had a boyfriend whom he was supposed to stay loyal to, but on the other hand, there was a really pretty stranger in front of him, with perfect French, and such kiss-able lips.

"Go ahead," he finally said, setting the wine glass down.

With a grin, the stranger sat down. "It's such a relief to find someone whose English is not as broken as my grandma's hip- I've been talking only French for three weeks now!" His grin widened when Frank chuckled. "I'm Gerard, by the way."

"I'm Frank." He leaned forward, shaking Gerard's hand with an identical smile. "Say, why are you searching for English people in France?"

Sheepishly, he took his hand back to himself and used it to scratch the back of his neck instead. "I, uh, I'm here with my college art course and they're all super into this kind of stuff but I'm- I'm not. So it got boring."

Frank could only scoff at that. "You're taking a college art course without being into art? What kinda bullshittery is that?"

"Well-" Gerard sighed in frustration but grinned at the choice of Frank's words- "I am into art, and I also paint and stuff. But I don't want to know about some painter, who's been dead for centuries, and what his eating habits were, or some shit. That's just boring."

Not knowing what to say to that, Frank picked his glass of wine up again, swirled it around a bit, and took a sip.

Gerard took the opportunity to look him over again. "You know what wouldn't be boring?"

Humming, Frank detached the glass from his lips. "What?"

Holding the eye-contact, Gerard smirked. "Going on a date with you."