He loves that I hate it. But I hate that I love it. Frerard. One-shot.
It’s unfair. Every night, every concert, he comes right on over, says something dirty, touches me, gets me hard, and then walks away. And he loves that I hate it. But I hate that I love it, too.
We’re about to play our tenth to last performance on this tour. Only a little longer together on this bus. I should be happy it won’t keep happening. But it hurts a little to know it’s almost over.
I overslept that day. And he stayed behind while the others went to eat. Damn. Why couldn’t someone else? Wait, I already know the answer. Because for some goddamn reason, he loves this game. More than I do. Knowing I have to leave my bunk eventually, I got up and moved towards the kitchen area. He was sitting there holding a pencil in one hand and a coffee mug in the other, staring down at a sketch pad. He looks up and sees me, and then does that fucking smirk that every girl seems to love. I hate that I love it too.
“Hey Frankie,” he said as smirk seemed to get even bigger.
“Hi.” I tried not to blush as I felt his eyes on me as went around trying to find something to eat.
Noticing I was ignoring him, he frowned a little. “Frankie, what’s wrong?” he asked.
“What? Oh, erm, uh, nothing. Nothing just tired,” I lied even though he knew I was. I frowned. I know he wanted to laugh at me right now.
“You ready for tonight?” he asked, his smirk growing again.
“Yeah, sure.” Did we really have to bring this up right now?? I sighed.
“I think we should change it up a little.” I sat down across the table from him, settling just on coffee for the morning. “Really? Uh, how?”
“I don’t know. Maybe get the fans a little more excited than usual.” I saw him smile into his coffee mug and look up at me.
“Oh-erm, uh, cool?” Damn. I had a feeling he meant something other than fans.
“It will be amazing. I know everyone will love it.”
“What do you plan on doing, exactly?” I had to ask. Though I probably didn’t want to know.
He smiled and came next to me, his leg touching mine. Shit. “Well, you know how the fans completely freak when me and you do that random make-out kind of shit on stage?” All I could do was nod. “Well maybe if we changed it up a little we could get the fans to go even crazier.” Dammit! The thought of that made me hard alone. I bit my lip, and tried to think of something. Anything to keep me from getting hard, or as of right now, harder. Old ladies, dead puppies, okay, that helped a little, but it’s still there. Damn.
Apparently I had though longer about that than meant to, because the next thing I notice is Gee waving his hand in my face. “Huh?”
Gee tried not to laugh. “Thinking about what I said?” He asked pointing down to my pants. SHIT!
“Oh, I-I um, shit.” Gerard couldn’t hold it in any longer apparently. He burst out laughing at me. I just blushed and turned away. After a minute, he calmed down, finally able to talk.
“I’m sorry, Frankie. I didn’t mean to laugh. It’s just so damn cute when you get all nervous and shit.” DID HE JUST CALL ME CUTE?! Jesus, Frankie, shut up! Realizing I spaced out again, I just blushed again, earning a smile from Gerard.
I realized he was A LOT closer than before. It wasn’t helping me at all. “Frankie?” My mouth suddenly went dry. I couldn’t talk. All I did was nod. “What do you think of us getting the fans to go crazier?” Oh fuck, that’s unfair. He can’t ask me that. No. No no no no no. “Uh, um, w-well… ugh, um…” was all I could come up with. Crap.
“I’ll take that as a yes?” Gee said as he closed any possible space between our bodies, his lips only a little more than an inch away. “Erm, uh, y-yea.” Oh god, oh god, oh god. He moved his lips so they ghosted over mine. “Good.” And with that, he pressed his lips to mine.
It was better than anything ever done on stage. It was softer than those, and it wasn’t just for the fans, or at least at this moment. It felt like he meant it. As cliché as it sounded, I felt fireworks. Whether he did or not, I’m not sure. But it felt right to me. A few seconds later, I felt his tongue trace along my bottom lower lip. He didn’t have to ask twice. I opened almost immediately, letting him take over. This is what I had wanted forever. Or at least since I met Gerard. He ran his hands up and down my sides, causing me to moan. Now there was no way to hide the fact that I was hard. But I knew I wasn’t the only one.
I started pulling at the bottom of his shirt, which he realized and not too far after removed it. As soon as his was off, he discarded mine. He moved his mouth down the side of my neck, and whispered “couch”, moving us there immediately. He lay on top of me, attacking my neck again. I couldn’t stop myself from moaning so much. I probably sounded like some whore. Just as he started playing with my belt, we heard Mikey yelling at Ray who was laughing with Bob right outside the bus. Fuck. Gerard looked at me, both of us terrified of what would happen if they saw us right now. He was off of me in record time, grabbing our shirts and throwing them on in a hurry.
I stayed lying on the couch, while Gee went over to the table to seem like he was sketching. I don’t know how we were able to do that in about 15 seconds. It was like fucking super hero speed. Haha. Awesome. Mikey was the first to enter the bus, yelling back at Bob, “You’re fucking twisted!” causing Ray and Bob to laugh harder.
“What the hell is so funny?” asked Frank. Mikey was the one to answer. “Bob keeps trying to convince me that you guys really are ‘Frerard’ or whatever the fans call it.” Gerard choked on his coffee, causing it to go all over his artwork. “Shit!” he yelled. Bob found this highly amusing literally falling onto the couch next to Frank from laughing so hard. Frank was still frozen from what Mikey had said. Well, this was probably just some one time thing. It didn’t matter.
We were all backstage getting ready for the show when Gerard came over to me while I was putting some eyeliner on. No one else was around, so he wrapped his arms around my waist from behind and whispering, “I like you Frankie. I was serious on the bus today. Were you?” I let that sink in for a minute. He had been serious. He liked me. I liked him. Holy shit I feel like some 9th grade girl finding out the star quarterback on the football team liked her. I turned around, and kissed his lips quickly. “Of course I fucking meant it.” And with that, I left him to finish getting ready.
I hadn’t known what to expect tonight during the concert. But during Teenagers, he slowly made his way over to me, and then started grinding himself against my backside, then kissed my neck, causing the fans to go crazy. “I think the fans would settle for that. Love you.” He said softly into my ear, and then turned away to finish the song. I couldn't help but smile. Damn him. Damn him for making me love him.