We both stare sheepishly at each other from across the cosy little; candle lit table, our eyes meeting for a brief second before Gerard looks away, his pale cheeks flushing a faint pink. There was only a few inches of wood between us and a flickering candle, how I wished I had the guts to tell him the truth. I couldn’t of course.
How many times had I imagined a scenario similar to this? Countless times. At least a million in the last month alone. Me and Gerard. Alone. Together in a restaurant. Like on a date.
Gerard coughs once nervously, and I slowly lift my ducked head to glance up at him, hiding behind my hair still, hoping that he didn`t see how nervous I was.
“So erm Ray is sick?” he questions, raising one perfectly sculpted eyebrow in disbelief.
I nod, not trusting myself to speak.
“Weird.” He mumbles, and I wonder if he was even talking to me or to himself. He often did that, normally when writing new song lyrics. “Frizz never gets sick.”
“I know.” I manage to reply, my voice a few octaves higher than usual.
An awkward silence comes over us, and I can`t help but notice just how close his black leather clad thigh was to mine, practically brushing against it.
“Ehem. Are the both of you ready to order?” the ash haired, young waiter from before asks politely, I hadn`t even heard him approach the table, and judging by Gerard`s flustered appearance he hadn’t either.
The guy was tall and thin, his blonde hair was cropped shorter at the back than the front and he had a pale complexion. He had a thin metal ring in the right side of his bottom lip and laughing blue grey eyes. All in all he was rather attractive, but extremely plain and average looking when compared to the crimson haired singer opposite me.
“Can I take your orders?” he asks again, and I fidget, feeling slightly embarrassed as I hadn’t even looked at the menu yet, neither had Gerard.
“Can we have a few more minutes?”
The young waiter smiles warmly. “Of course sir.” He says before walking away, and I notice something that I hadn`t before in the main pocket of his plain black jacket. A thick wad of money, what looked to be fifty dollar notes tucked carefully inside the black fabric. I frown, wondering if it was possible for a young waiter to earn so many in tips all in one night. I highly doubted it; this was a very stingy neighbourhood.
“So Frankie? What do you wanna eat?” Gerard asks, shuffling uncomfortably in his seat, looking anywhere but at me as he speaks.
“Erm…” I glance at the fancy, expensive menu, only one thing really catching my eye.
“Erm the pasta?” I say, checking that there was no meat in it.
He nods, and shuts is own menu. “Fine by me.”
Almost as though he had been called, the young waiter appears, pen and pad at the ready to take our order.
“So let me get that right the pasta for both of you and what would you like to drink? We have an excellent selection of fine wines and-“
“Just coke for me please.” Gerard cuts in, and I see the slight strain on his handsome, pale face. I grimace mentally as I remember how he had been all those years ago, drinking his life away, destroying it.
“okay.” He says, writing it down. “And for you?” he turns to me.
He hurries off, a faint smile appearing on his thin pierced lips that made me a little confused but I ignore it. Maybe he was just one of those rare people that actually liked their job. I somehow doubted it though.
As we wait for our I begin to look around the secluded back room to try to take my mind off of how close I was to Gerard, not wanting to do or say something that would make things weird. It was very pleasant; I could hear the faint sound of violins in the background, very romantic.
“You okay Frankie?” Gerard asks hesitantly, reaching his trembling hand out from across the table, before nervously placing it on top of mine, carefully gauging my reaction.
The waiter returns a few minutes later with the orders. There was only one slight issue. There was only one large plate of food.
Seeing our embarrassed, questioning glances he explains, “We ran out of plates.” He mumbles lamely and I narrow my eyes. No plates? In a restaurant? Yeah right.
I peak over at Gerard who was prodding the pasta with a fork nervously, biting on his lower lip when it suddenly hits me. We had been set up.
I get to my feet, nearly tripping head first into the boiling hot food. “I- have to go!”
“No!” he grabs my arm, getting to his fee also, surprising me by his closeness.
“Ray isn`t really sick, and Bob isn`t stuck in traffic, is he?”
Gerard blushes and removes his hand from me, shaking his head slowly. “I don’t think so.”
I knew so. “They have set us up, haven`t they?”
He nods, cheeks an interesting shade of red that makes me curious, was he embarrassed because he somehow liked me back, or was it simply the shame of being set up on a date with a friend when he wasn`t even gay? Probably the last one.
“W-well I hate to disappoint them b-but you’re not-and I-and I`m not…” I trail of awkwardly, seeing the sheepish look of Gerard`s bright red face.
My eyes widen in shock.
“I…I know you’re not…” I laugh mentally, sure I`m not. “B…but I am.” He admits in a voice no more than a whisper, my jaw dropping open and my black little heart leaping for joy.
Without even thinking I roughly smash my lips to his, ignoring the candle on the table, not caring if I got burnt, just needing the feel of his lips on mine. I shut my eyes, not wanting to see the disgusted look in his eyes that i was sure would be there, working my lips furiously against his still ones. He lets out a loud moan into my eager moth and begins to return the kiss, teasingly licking along my bottom lip with his tongue sending chills down my spine. It was even better than I had imagined, even better than it was all of those years ago.
“I…I love you Frankie.”
I grin even wider than I already was, and capture his willing lips once more, not needing words to explain how much I cared for the other man.
“Our foods gone cold.” I say when we finally pull apart again, and he shrug, laughing once.
“Remind me to thank the others when we see them tomorrow.” The red haired singer giggles, before dragging me by the hand out of the busy restaurant.
My phone buzzes in my pocket a few minutes alter.
“Who is it?” Gerard inquires from the driver’s side of his car. Mine was left forgotten in its parking space.
I grin and show him the text from our band mates.
He frowns, “How do they know…” I point with one hand out of the window, back at the restaurant where you could clearly see Bob, Ray and Mikey`s cars parked. We grin and wave at them, before driving away together.