In which Frank is an absolute pest, and Gerard is incredibly unfit.
Hey everyone! Thank you so much for your positive ratings and reviews and support! I was really quite nervous to start this in the first place, but you guys really encouraged me to keep going with it! Here’s the second installment! Enjoy
P.S- I changed a minor detail in the first chapter. Instead of the story being set in the fall, it’s early June.
P.P.S- The character of ‘Lady B’ is in no way meant to reflect Bandit, I just liked the idea of using Lady B for a name.
Holy motherfucking raptor Jesus on a pogo stick. Did I actually just do that?! Llama shit. Gerard is probably still standing there wondering what the actual fuck just happened. Hell, I’M wondering what the actual fuck just happened! I don’t know what came over me. Hehe! Came. Seriously brain, if you weren't in charge of everything, I would stab you with a spork. I’m warning you. We gotta stay calm. Let Gerard think we actually meant to do that.
I keep strutting away like I own this sidewalk, even sashaying my hips a little bit (don’t question my manliness. I can hear you questioning it, so stop) and I am just the picture of absolute freaking confidence. I think. At least that’s what I’m going for. Knowing Gerard, he’s probably still standing there recovering. Praise jebus for cigarettes. I just hope Gerard catches up to me and I can write this off as a joke, or even better, the sidewalk spontaneously turns into a black hole and I don’t have to deal with this at all. That sounds awfully nice right about now. I try and curb my anxiety and relax my palpitating heartbeat all while trying to keep as physically cool as a cucumber in Antarctica. So far, it’s not working out so well. My hands are shaking like crazy, and I think I had a tiny aneurism a second ago. I stuff my hands in my Anthrax hoodie to control the shaking a bit, and just focus on walking. Super-duper casual.
Behind me, I hear the rapid slapping of converse against the ground, and I stop and turn around. I’m greeted with the sight of Gerard doing his best to power-walk, and I’m pretty sure tomatoes everywhere are jealous of the colour of his face right about now. I suppose a major downside to being as pale as him is that any sort of increased blood flow makes him an unfortunate shade of crimson. I wave enthusiastically, and shout “Hi Gee! Having fun yet?” my nerves calmed a bit seeing him looking so adorably ridiculous. He sort of awkward jogs the few remaining feet between us, and immediately stops beside me.
“You…” his face has a mixture of amusement and concern plastered on it “I don’t even… You sir, are one strange motherfucker.” He states, nodding his head, his lips pursed together in straight line. That doesn’t last long though, because before I can think of a snappy retort, a white and black blur of Gerard is scooping me up and tossing me over his shoulder fireman style.
“Gee! Put me down! What are you doing, you psychopath?!” I squeal whilst flapping my arms about, much like an octopus with ADD might. Don’t ask me exactly what that would actually look like, but I know I damn well resemble it. I just love every second of this, don’t doubt that for a second. His arm is wrapped gently but securely around my waist, and I can feel his shoulders rising slightly with every breath.
“Well I figured that much should be pretty straightforward. You said you wanted cake, but decided to sass away from me. I can’t have the sort-of almost birthday boy run away and give me no reason for cake, you know!” He says, as if it were the most obvious thing on earth. If my face weren’t currently having a lovely get together with Gerard’s lower back, I know I’d be able to see the devious smirk on his lily-white face. “If you promise to behave yourself, I’ll put you down. Do we have a deal?” He asks. I exhale heavily in response and put on my best 4-year old pout. If I have any choice in the matter, I’ll be staying a while.
“No. I like the view from up here. I’m staying. Screw you man!” I whine, trying to keep the smile from showing in my voice. I cling onto him with my arms and legs, doing my best octopus impression. With any luck, he might just leave me be for the sake of his beloved cake. Fun fact: Gerard really fucking loves cake. Really, really loves it to point where it might be slightly sexual. Concerning? Yes. Absolutely, a thousand times over, yes. Gerard is destined to be mine, so all wonderfully fluffy and moist desserts best back the fuck off. He’d kill for chocolate, but he really doesn’t mind as long as it’s lovely, delicious cake.
“But Frankieeeee, for the love of all things shoulderly, please behave. I can’t hold you up here forever! My shoulder hurts from carrying your midget ass around.” He pleads.
“Fine! Be a meanie like that. I’ll just walk like a peasant.” I say in the snottiest voice I can manage without wanting to gouge out my own eyes with forks. Gerard bends over, and I slide back down onto the pavement. I fix my shirt and hoodie that seem to have gotten mussed up on the way down, and I could have sworn I saw Gerard gawking at the bit of my toned, tattooed stomach that was bare. I blame it on my hormones and eyesight. There’s just no way he’d actually be remotely interested in me. Right?
“Stop being such a freaking princess, or you get no cake!” He declares, scowling and pointing his finger in my face. By means of either reflex or deep-rooted desire for Gerard’s body parts in my mouth, I bite onto his finger like the strange little motherfucker he claims I am. Gerard squeaks in surprise and instantly tries to pry my face off of his finger, even using my forehead as leverage. He really shouldn’t have gone waving his finger in my face, he brought this on himself.
“Frankie! Let go! Your teeth are sharp! Gah! Get off!” Gerard whines, still making a futile attempt to escape my iron jaws of death. Oh yes, I went there. I make a sort of “Mmm-mmm” indicating no, and fold my arms across my chest, frowning around his bony finger. Gerard sighs and drops his free arm to his side. “Frankie, if I promise to carry you to the bakery, will you stop biting me?” He pleads, given up on struggling and settling with bribery. My pout flips a one-eighty, and I’m beaming from ear to ear. I love it when Gerard carries me places! It can be very tiring trying to keep up with captain long legs over there. I spit out his finger and hastily claw myself up onto Gerard’s back.
“C’mon! let’s go, Gee!” I cry, kicking my heels into his side, spurring him on like a horse. I adore times like this, when it’s just me and him, and the world is our playground. Gerard groans, his skinny frame protesting against even more exercise. This is probably the most exercise he’s had in days, really.
Gerard keeps a steady pace as he hauls me down the street, hitching me up every now and then so as I don’t fall off. We’ve covered quite a few blocks now, and I know we’re just a couple more from the bakery. I’m getting pretty excited for cake myself, not to mention that I’ve spent the better part of a half hour attached to Gerard. Sorry cake, Gee is more exciting. Along the way, we’ve talked about the weather, avocados, and the state of Gerard’s hair. And when I say we, I mean mostly him. He rambled on about how dry this summer has been and the havoc it is wreaking on his hair. God, he is such a drama queen. From there, he decided that avocado would be a wonderful shade of green to dye his hair. He asked me if he could dye his hair with an avocado, and I said that no, he could not dye his hair with an avocado. Not even if he wanted to. Returning to the present, we have just turned the corner onto the street that the bakery is on, the scent of baking desserts assaulting our noses, and making Gerard and I simultaneously start drooling in our mouths. I don’t know if Gee’s cake obsession is contagious or not, but goddammit, that is the most delicious smell I’ve ever smelled. Smelt? I don’t know. Quite frankly, I don’t care either, I just really want some freaking cake. As soon as we reach the storefront, Gerard drops down to his knees to let me clamber off his back. The second I’m off, he bolts through the door of the shop, the tiny bell ringing out loud and clear, announcing our arrival.
By the time I’ve stretched out my legs and made my way inside, Gerard is already sitting patiently at a small round table by the large front window, hands clasped firmly in his lap, his crooked grin matching my own. After the shenanigans he’s dealt with today, I figure I can buy him a slice of cake.
I approach the counter and ding the little rhinestone- embellished service bell twice. Hardly a second passes before Madame Beauvais, the owner, pops out from the back, a warm smile and flour adorning her round cheeks. She wipes her hands on a nearby hand towel, and trots up to the other side of the counter.
“’Allo Francois! Ma chérie! What can I get you boys?” She asks, her French accent strong, yet light and airy in the same instance. Madame Beauvais was my favorite. I’d known her since I was little, as my mom was close friends with her. She would always give me a slightly bigger slice of dessert than she should have, but I didn’t mind. After all, she became sort of like a second mom to me when my own mom was really sick in the hospital for a while.
“Hey there, Lady B! I’ll get two slices of chocolate cake” I say politely, pulling out my wallet as I speak.
“Oh no, no, Francois, this is on me.” She says, gently patting away my wallet, shushing me when I insist on paying. She flits away for a few moments, returning with two lavender coloured plates, cake sitting squarely in the centre, delicate silver forks on the side. I thank her profusely, and join Gerard at the table.
“Thank you, Lady B!” Gerard calls while waving at her, Madame Beauvais waving back. She disappears into the back of the shop again, and I tuck into my cake. Madame Beauvais’ shop is known around town for having the best chocolate cake known to the human race. Human race might be exaggerating, but damn, it’s the best I’ve had.
“Hey, umm, Frankie?” I look up, and Gerard is smiling sheepishly, cake and fork completely untouched.
“Yeah, Gee? What’s the matter? You haven’t touched your cake!” I exclaim. Gerard must be coming down with something! He’d never pass up cake. “Are you feeling sick? What’s wrong? Oh god, I must’ve overworked you and now you can’t even eat cake! Oh this is all my fault, I-…” I panic, eyes wide, putting the back of my hand against his forehead, checking for a fever. I’d have continued the fretting, but Gerard cut me off before I could continue.
“No Frank, I’m fine, my arms are just really, really sore… Would you mind, you know, feeding me? I can hardly lift my arms. Good lord, I’m unfit.” He asks shyly, gaze aimed at the cake sitting tantalizingly close in front of him. My heart skips a beat at his offer. Oh god, he wants me to feed him? Of course I want to. Would that be awkward? No, he asked me, it’s fine, it’s not like this is weird or lovey-dovey. I mean, it’s not like we’re in a quaint, cozy little bakery, about to share cake, right? Oh my.
“Yeah, sure thing Gee. I wouldn’t dare deny you cake.” I say, a playful smile on my lips. I steady my slightly shaking hand by propping up my elbow on the table and pick up the delicate little fork, cutting off a small piece and holding it up to Gerard’s mouth. He opens his mouth into a perfect ‘O’ shape, just enough for the bit of cake to fit, and wraps his lips around the fork, pulling away with a mouth full of cake. I swear to god, he purposely made that look seductive. He “mmphs” appreciatively, chewing slowly. He licks away the crumbs from his lips, and opens his mouth again, silently asking for more. I happily oblige, really enjoying feeding Gerard.
As I feed him cake, he giggles between forkfuls, sighing contentedly every now and then. His slice of cake has dwindled down to just a few bites, and I feel mildly resentful that I don’t have a whole cake to feed him. Goodness knows he’d try to eat all of it. As I’m feeding him the last bite of his cake, the door flies open, and none other than the school’s head jock and lord of the meatheads, Bryce, saunters in , his gang of cronies close behind him.
“Hey fuckface, having a good time feeding your little fag boyfriend?” He sniggers, passing douchey high-fives amongst his friends. My cheeks flame an embarrassing shade of pink, and I hastily drop the fork to the table, lowering my gaze to my lap. Why can I never have nice things?! One of Bryce’s buddies start hammering away at Madame Beauvais’ bell, something that really ticks her off. She’s a really calm and composed woman, but never, ever muck around with her bell.
“Not gonna answer me, huh faggot?” Bryce sneers. He actually comes up to Gerard now, and shoves him hard. Gerard winces, but doesn’t make a sound. His sore arm certainly not appreciating the rude gesture. My blood instantly boils. I’m used to taking Bryce’s crap all the time, but the second he touched Gerard, he was asking for it.
“I’ll answer you.” I say, jumping to my feet. He crossed the line, and I wasn’t having any of it. I whip off my hoodie and toss it to Gerard. “Bitch, hold my jacket, I have an asshole to educate."
Hope you enjoyed it!