Fifty of the most romantic things ever done. A 50 part one-shot Frerard series.
Okie dokie so here is the deal. I am tragically sick and currently throwing up my guts while listening to Radiohead. Good times. And so out of utter boredom I found myself on buzzfeed. I laughed at the stupid rants about stupid “gurl gamers” (for the record… I HATE ALL OF YOU BITCHES!) and smartarse exam answers. But then I somehow came across the post “The Fifty Most Romantic Things That Ever Happened” holy shit… being the hopeless romantic (yet forever fat and alone) I cried… a lot. And now that I have sobered up enough to breathe I thought… HEY LET’S APPLY SOME UNESSECARY FRERARD TO THIS SHIT! So alas he we are. In short this will be a series of 50 probably around the 1000 word mark one shots, enjoy.
The First Time Someone Wrote Their Names On This Wall
“Come on, Gee!” sixteen year old Frank Iero, giggled excitedly tugging on the hand of his seventeen year old best friend. Gerard Way giggled in returned and bit his lips with nervous apprehension. It wasn’t Valentine’s Day, neither boy was secretly preparing to propose to one another, the birds did not sing and the wind did not softly tussle anyone’s hair. It was a slightly damp, stickily humid unpleasant Monday. Monday, really? Of all days, fucking Monday.
Monday’s were in no way, shape or form ‘romantic’. In fact they completely sucked arse. Gerard was almost always too late out of bed to have his ritualistic morning coffee, the teachers always seemed to have an eight foot midget shoved up their arse. Wait, what? Eight foot midget? What the fuck is wrong with you, Way? Gerard mentally slapped himself across the face. Corrected and continued his internal debate. Eight foot giant shoved up their arse and Gerard didn’t have a single class with his lovable yet somewhat crazy best friend.
Which was why this particular Monday seemed somewhat unusual to begin with. Monday’s usually sucked beyond the telling of it, but for some unknown, probably Illuminati (I would like to take a moment to point out that I had to wait for my Dad to come home and confirm that that is how you spell Illuminati because Word doesn’t acknowledge it as a word and the filters on my school laptop won’t even let my type it in, gotta fucking love the Queensland Government. Fuck you Campbell fucking Newman) related, today was charged with an excited zeal. Gerard was, in all literal terms, buzzing with joy and nerves. He and Frank had decided to skip a day in the greasy hallways choked with bodies and schoobags, rancid with the smell of overly processed school dinners, and head towards to the city.
Gerard yanked a hold of Frank’s hand, which was not smooth and perfect; it was, to be exact, rough and kind of sweaty. But it was just Frank, just how Gerard liked it. Frank let out another cute like, kind of snorty, giggle and dragged his companion towards the warm coffee scented delicious beacon of tasty caffeinated goodness.
The bell about the door tinkered and Gerard was released from Franks grasp as they stepped into the relatively quiet local Starbucks. Gerard attempted to fix his windswept greasy locks (totally not in the good way, more in the holy-shit-bird-nest-in-your-hair kind of a way) as Frank fiddled with his school tie, looking pretty nervous, like the staff were going to bust the pair for not being in class.
After ordering –Frank getting the thing with the most sugar and cream involved and Gerard with a double espresso- they collected with drinks and set toward to the closest booth. The booth that was right up against the front window, which Frank found great amusement in smooshing his face up against and pulling ridiculous expressions at the passer byers.
Things started to kind of get a bit weird when they both reached for the sugar, that was at the time housed happily in its little glass jar between the two scruffy boys; One an unkempt gothic artist complete with charcoal smudged halfway up his face and a one trouble making little punk kid. That same punk kid reached to retrieve the sugar at the same times as his black clad best friend. But as Gerard and Frank’s hands brushed together, Gerard let out a small whimper. It was not a whimper of a deep seeded sexual attraction final raking itself to the surface, it was one of pain. Unlike in the movies with the two brushed hands they did not feel electric tingles dancing from fingertip to fingertip, in fact all Gerard felt was one of the safety pins from Frank’s hoodie stabbing him in the palm.
Frank gasped a flood of apologies spilling out his mouth, along with an slightly unflattering shower of spit and second hand coffee spraying Gerard in the face. At this point the majority of the stores customers had turn to look at the rowdy duo. Gerard glanced at all of their sheep like little faces, the manager glaring at the pair with malicious intent. This is probably why Gerard burst out into a fit of hysterics.
Frank, vaguely concerned that Gerard has lost it (like his best friend often does) started too for a brief moment, before joining the latter in an unstoppable series of giggles. The manager quickly swaggered over and harshly barked at the two to leave the shop immediately.
So picking up their school bags Gerard and Frank stumbled out of Starbucks and into a nearby ally, in some attempt to hide from the authority that so soften paroles the area for teens skipping just like cackling pair.
Soon enough the hysterics died down to chuckles and the chuckled into the hollow rise and fall of the two boys chest.
“We are in an ally” Gerard commented after a minute, a small smirk still dancing on his slightly acne dotted features.
“Indeed we are” Frank agreed the same smile resting on his face as Gerard’s.
“There is a homeless man asleep at one end, a dead cat at the other, trash piled taller then you” Frank glared at Gerard for a second by allowed him to continue “the whole thing reeks of piss, vomit and stale vodka… and there is a freshly painted big white wall behind you just begging to be drawn on”
At this Franks grin morphed into a full blown smile, teeth and all.
The two, being to the rebellious little misfit that they were, took any chance they had to somehow deface anything they could come across. They could swear they had drawn on the back of more bus seats then the whole of Belleville High School combined.
Frank dug in his weathered school satchel for a moment before bringing out a thick black Sharpie. Brand spanking new. He bit his lip, a small blush creeping up his features.
“Turn around a minute, Gee, will ya?” Frank asked nervously. Gerard gulped in anticipation, but complied.
Frank twisted on his heal to face the wall, peaking briefly over his shoulder to make sure his companion wasn’t looking. The pop of the cap and Frank’s own heart beat seemed to be the only this he could hear at this juncture. He began to write, in big, firm black letters, right across the wall. His hand glided with such precision, it was easy to tell he had done this before. The familiar scratch of the marker of the wall distracted Frank from the smell of piss and the fact that this could all go terribly wrong.
Once finished, Frank took a step back to admire his work, the words were kind of on a slant but nevertheless readable. Frank gulped in a lungful of stale city air and hopefully, subtly crossed his calloused fingers. He turned to face the raven hair boy, his heart did not skip a beat, and he did not feel hundreds of butterflies dancing around his intestines. In reality all Frank felt was the bile crawling up his digestive track and planting itself in a wet splash on the ally floor. Frank had been in all sense of the words, sick with nerves.
Gerard, upon hearing the vile retching of his friend, spun quickly around to face the boy who was now, incidentally doubled over, one hand on the newly graffiti adorned wall. The same wall the Gerard was much too concerned about Frank to pay any attention to.
Laying a hand on the smallers back Gerard swept Franks tangled hair from his, now pale, face as he continued to empty to contents of his guts. After a second Frank gets up the courage to mumble something to Gerard.
“Look at the wall” He groaned, still doubled over, partly because of the vomit and partly because he is too nervous to anticipate Gerards reaction.
Though because of Franks current state Gerard only really hears a series of moans that he promptly interprets as I threw up on the wall. Gerard comfortingly continued to rub circles on Franks back.
“I know Frankie” he replied. Frank’s eyes flew open, a barely audible gasps escaped his chapped lips. He knows? How?!
“What?!” Frank, now very audibly gasped. He attempted to regain his standing position, only to find that a certain someone in his way. They somehow manage to head-butt each other with such precise precision that only God could have planned that one. If so, God is a jackass.
The pair immediately let out a string of curses and swears. Gerard stumbled backwards and lent up against the opposite wall, rubbing his forehead, hazel eyes clamped shut. Eventually his vision returned and he was face to face with Frank’s messy scrawl across the fresh coat of white paint.
I LOVE YOU GERARD ARTHUR WAY! (PS: YOU STILL HAVE MY #42 ISSUE OF BATMAN)
Gerard just kind of ended up staring for a minute. And then everything just sort of happened at once. His eyes darted between the graffiti and Frank, who was now sucking on his lip, cheeks flushed red and looking very intently at his scruffy Chucky T’s.
Suddenly the light did hit just the right way, dancing across Frank’s perfect features. The birds did sing; a beautifully sweet melody. Gerard did feel electric tingles dance across his body. Frank’s heart did skip a beat. And he did feel hundreds of butterflies dancing though his intestines.
Gerard took a slightly shy step forward, not speaking a word. Frank looked up to find himself eye to eye with Gerard, he swallowed loudly and started into his hazel orbs. A tiny smile stained Gerard’s features. He grabbed Frank around the waist into a bone crushing hug and pressed his lips has hard has he could to Frank’s.
Now as they worked their lips together, yes Gerard did pressed a bit too hard and was a bit wet, and yes Frank did still taste kind of like coffee flavoured vomit, but it was exactly the way it was in the movies. Fireworks were exploding, doves flying, angels singing. If there was ever a moment for a confetti gun, it was right fucking now.
It was the most perfect moment in history, right there in the ally, behind the Starbucks they just got kicked out of, that had a homeless man at one end and a dead cat at the other. It smelt like piss, fresh vomit and stale vodka. Frank’s penmanship could have been better and Gerard probably could have worn a bit more deodorant. But in the single moment it could safely be said that out of the seven billion people inhabiting the Earth, at least two of them couldn’t have been happier.
That same wall went on to become a mass piece of graffiti. Done by couples of all shapes, races, sexualities, ages and sizes. All with one thing in common, they were all in love. Even if those people with their names staining the white in pink, black, reds and purples are no longer together at least it is known that at that exact moment when the message was written, they were happy. The original message by Frank now long covered up but thousands of other messages of love, some even of proposal. But Frank and Gerard did not mind because all they wanted was to share what they had felt at that time with the rest of the world.
God damn I should be dubbed queen of cheese. Comment will make me feel better as I am currently DYING! Bleh sickness… If I get five or more comments I will continue on with the other forty-nine one shots, if not then this will just become a standalone. Either way, I hope you all enjoyed it :)