This bit is taken from the middle of a frerard story, so you guys won't get the full picture but hopefully it'll show you my general writing style :)
Frank's hands are shaking so bad that he drops his keys twice before managing to open the front door. He storms out onto the balcony, pacing back and forth for a while.
His breathing slows down gradually and he runs his fingers through his messy hair, sighing with relief as a soft breeze passes by causing his oddly buttoned-up shirt to wave lightly around his body. He shuts his eyes, allowing the distant city noises to take over his mind completely. Combined with the feeling of sweat cooling on his skin, it's almost enough to lull him to sleep. He forces his eyes open and turns around, planning to drop dead onto his bed as soon as he gets inside.
A figure is stood in the balcony door, lit up from behind so that only a dark silhouette is visible.
'Holy-- Jesus fuck,' Frank exhales, adrenaline rushing through his veins again as he backs away.
'What the hell are you doing, Frank?' Gerard asks, his voice oddly calm and unphased. He steps outside, not so much as a gaze thrown in Frank's direction. 'You know, I really thought you were this... This inspirational little guy who'd always come in to save the day.' He scoffs. 'Now I just can't figure you out.'
Frank looks up toward the sky hopelessly.
'You don't get it,' he answers eventually, feeling more than a little pathetic.
'Then explain,' Gerard replies, somewhat less patiently.
'I fucking can't!' Frank exclaims, rubbing his hands over his face hopelessly. 'Look, I know you think you're involved, but this has nothing to do with you. And trust me, you don't want anything to do with it.'
Gerard takes a step closer, forcing Frank to meet his stare. His eyes look almost silver in the moonlight.
'Whatever it is, just... Quit it, okay? It's no good for anybody, especially the band. Jesus Christ, Frankie...' He lifts his hand and brushes his fingers against one of the the bruises on Frank's neck, making him shiver. 'I just don't want to see you hurt.'
'If it were that easy, I'd have done it a long time ago,' Frank replies. He realizes his voice has dropped to a whisper and he's subconsciously shifted his body so that his face is inches away from Gerard's. If he tried hard enough he's almost sure he's be able to hear Gerard's heartbeat and the thought makes it that much harder for him to turn away.
'I'm sorry, Gerard. You know how much I care about the band, but this is just so much bigger than that. I'll totally understand if you wanna go on without me.'
Gerard scoffs again.
'I'm pretty damn sure we couldn't go on without you even if we wanted to.'
Frank sighs slowly, moving his fingers so they don't go stiff from the cold. Now that the action's over, he's starting to feel sore in all sorts of bizarre places, like his stomach and his feet.
The silence is starting to become awkwardly long and Frank would have thought Gerard to be gone if his shadow weren't visible on the sand-colored balcony tiles.
Eventually, Frank searches his pockets for a pack of cigarettes and a lighter before bracing his elbows on the balcony railing and lighting up. Watching the first cloud of smoke rise upwards and evaporate into the cool air feels strangely soothing. There's nothing he wants more than to sleep for at least a week. Even the balcony floor looks comfy at this point.
'You know,' Gerard's voice makes him jolt awake from his reverie. 'I can't just leave you alone, or whatever it is that you want me to do.'
He shuffles and taps his foot on the tiles and Frank can't see him but he can tell he's scratching the back of his neck and looking down the way he does when he's nervous.
'But I can't make you talk to me either. So, you know. I'll be back.'
Frank can't help but quirk a smile at that.
'Right,' he replies, but Gerard's already gone.
If Gerard feels a bit weird about waiting for the bell to ring by St Helen's gates, it definitely doesn't have anything to do with the fact that Frank may or may not act like he doesn't know him in front of his classmates. What does Gerard care? He's just doing the boy a favor, really, and if it turns out he's not ready for it, then that's not Gerard's problem.
He chews on his bottom lip and ruffles his hair, getting impatient. He's starting to doubt that coming here was even a good idea. Why is he wasting his time if he could be doing all sorts of cool things that don't involve stupid little toyboys?
He sighs and is just about to start walking back home when the bell rings. Gerard's gut churns as boys in uniforms start spilling out the school doors and walking – not a single one of them running, what the fuck is wrong with this place – towards him. He gets more than a few dirty looks, but his eyes keep scanning the crowd looking for one face. As soon as he spots him, he leans back against the wall nonchalantly and puts his hands in his pockets, waiting to be noticed.
Frank's voice sounds uncertain and so quiet it almost gets lost in the background chatter. Gerard makes a point of turning his head slowly, one eyebrow raised, and looking Frank up and down before standing up straight to face him. He has to admit, the boy looks damn good in that uniform. He can't wait to mess it up.
'Well, well, aren't you lookin' sharp,' he drawls, smiling lazily and fishing two cigarettes and a box of matches out of his jacket's pocket. He offers one to Frank, who shakes his head, blushing at his own shoes.
'Gerard, what... What are you doing here?'
He looks around nervously and Gerard smiles wider, lighting his cigarette and throwing the match onto the pavement.
'Came to get you outta here, fucker, you'd better be grateful. C'mon,' he grabs Frank's arm, ignoring the younger boy's resistance.
'I have to go home, my parents--'
Gerard laughs. 'Your parents? Really?'
He stops once they're taken a turn and pushes Frank up against the wall, looking straight into his pretty brown eyes.
'Have I taught you nothing at all?' he asks in a low voice.
He brushes a dark strand of hair out of Frank's confused face before smiling lopsidedly and slapping his cheek lightly.
'C'mon Frank, we're going to my favorite place in the whole wide fuckin' world! Be a little more excited, a'right? But first,' he takes a step back and looks Frank over with a critical eye. 'We have to give you a bit of a make-over.'
The house that Gerard drags them to is dubious-looking to say the least, but Frank doesn't dare object until it becomes clear that they're not heading for the front door.
'You are not making me go in there,' he tries to sound stern, but he's breathless from half-jogging all over town and then up and down muddy hills, so it ends up sounding more like a question. The dirty gray stairway in the back of the house is hidden by graffiti-covered walls that look like they were built by a five-year-old.
'Don't be such a baby. I doubt we'll even see anyone, all Bert ever does is lie in bed and smoke pot. Nice dude. We're just gonna borrow his basement for a few.'
Frank rolls his eyes and tries to keep up as Gerard jumps down the stairs as if he'd lived there his whole life.
The inside of the building doesn't look much better than the outside. The whole room is drowning in what seems to be tonnes of clothes, boxes, instruments, notebooks, ripped-up furniture and things that look sharp, weird and not at all like something Frank wants to be around. It smells overwhelmingly like smoke and sweat and Frank scrunches his nose up.
When he glances over at Gerard, the boy's face is lit up and bright, as if the pile of junk he's looking at is actually a long-lost treasure. He starts rummaging messily through all the clothes, humming to himself contently. From time to time, his eyes spark up and he puts a black piece of clothing or a dusty boot on the floor next to Frank's feet.
'Oh man,' Gerard sighs. 'I love this fucking place. Anything you need, you'll find here. And Bert – he doesn't give a fuck, just lets me take whatever I want... There you go, okay.'
A decent pile of clothes is laying by Frank's feet and he eyes it critically.
'You, uh... Want me to wear that?' he asks.
Gerard smiles and looks at him sultrily from underneath his ridiculously long eyelashes.
'I don't know, do you want to wear that?'
Frank bites his lip uncertainly. He knows he wants to do whatever Gerard wants him to. He shrugs and nods at the same time and Gerard grins at him.
The next second he's right in front of Frank, hovering over his face.
'Guess you won't be needing this anymore, huh?' he whispers, fingers running over the stiff fabric of Frank's navy blue jacket and pausing at the collar of his white shirt to undo the first button.
Frank's heart is suddenly hammering against his ribcage and he barely contains a shiver when one of Gerard's fingers brushes against the pulse point on his neck.
Sorry to end it this way... Hopefully I'll upload a complete fic sometime soon :)