FicWad

Feet curled underneath me, heart pounding, and a dry mouth.
Cotton or velvet, I can't quite decide what my mouth feels like it's been stuffed with.
I don't know why, I feel fine. I am fine. I'm just waiting. He'll be home soon. I let my thoughts wander and I hope he brings back ice cream. I've grown the strangest love for Apple ice cream recently. Frank actually hated it but he might pick me up some. I think about calling him to ask, but quickly quash that thought. Pointless a voice says and I quickly change tactic. Hush.
I think back on the time I first tasted apple ice cream. It tasted better off his body.
///
I smile. We were staying in a hotel and I had been in an awful mood because of the fight I had with Bert. Quinn was jealous about the time we spent together and he said he was uncomfortable with us kissing. I could understand and accept that, it was fair, but it was the way Bert phrased it that pissed me off.
Hey, Gee, I have to cut down our hang time dude, sorry. Quinn's pissy and we can't make out any more. Gotta go, love y'all bye. Tell Frankie I said yo. Bitch. Then he hung up and left me in a sour mood.
Frank nudged me, " Gee, you ok?" and I forced a smile at him. The moonlight from the balcony outside flooded one side of his handsome face. He was kind of beautiful, I realised. How the hell did I get him to love me? The silky white sheets rustle under me as I lean over to smooth my hand over his face. He smiles at me and I grin back. "Bert says 'Yo, bitch."
"Love, you cannot speak street. Like not even a little bit." Frank informed me in his quick, low voice. "Remind me to tell him, 'No, Bert, I still don't want a threesome,' in front of his band won't you?"
"I won't be seeing him much anymore." I say, picking at a loose string on the drawsting of my navy plaid pajama pants. Frank has a matching pair that he stole from me. He's wearing them. The dark colour is complimenting to the tanned expanse of his bare chest. "Is that why you're sad?" He questions. I lean closer and bury my face in his shoulder. The smell of his shower gel is familiar and comforting. "I'm not sad." I mumble into his soft skin and it tastes clean and the words are muffled.
He strokes my long messy black hair soothingly. "Sure you're not." He teases lightly.
"He's your best friend, it's ok to miss him." Frank strokes my bare back gently. I shake my head slowly, "He's a very good friend, but he's not my best." I speak against his skin and he sighs in pleasure at the feel of my breath. "You're my best friend." I tell him, lowly.
He smiles slightly, I can hear it in his voice. "You always wear your heart on your sleeve, don't you?" and I rub my nose against his cheek, lightly touching my lips off his jaw. "Only when it's you." I mumble. He laughs quietly, and it rumbles through his chest. I stroke back a lock of damp hair from his cheek. There's a knock at the door and I lean back to look at it. Frank and I stare each other down for a minute, to see who will cave and remove themselves from the warm bed to answer the door. "Fine, I got it."He grumbles, hoisting himself off the sheets and opening the door. I lie back, in pleasant, silky warmth and close my eyes.
"Gerard..." Frank cooes, the bed moves slightly under his weight as he climbs onto the bed. "Gee..." He sighs, and something cold drips onto my chest. I open my eyes in shock as a warm tongue gently licks the cold off. Frank was crouched easily over me, licking ice cream off my body.
"It's too cold Frankie." I whine and he giggles his little stoner giggle. I push him down, rolling over so I'm straddling his body instead and I spoon some apple ice cream from the cart of room service I had called earlier. "Nice surprise, by the way." He gasps at the temperature. "Fuck, that is cold."
I smile against his chest and nip lightly at the skin.
//
I shift uncomfortably on the floor. I don't know why I'm sitting on the floor waiting, for Frank. I could just wait on the couch. Not ready to move yet a voice whispers soothingly.
"Okay, Frankie. I'm fine here." I murmer back.

Bob's POV
I swung open the door to Frank and Gerard's apartment loudly. God knows, I wanted to alert them of my presence. Not like last time when they didn't know I was here and...I shudder, still mildly traumatised. I wander into the kitchen, looking for one of them to hang out eith. Ray's with his new friend William and I'm bored. Ice stops my blood. I stop, frozen as the scene on the floor reveals itself from behind the closed door.
My mouth opens and I try to form Frank's name but nothing comes out but a hoarse cry. They are tears rolling themselves down my face and I don't know how they got there. Frank. I stumble to his body on the floor. Crouch beside it. Hold my trembling fingers to his pulse. There is none. Then I see the broken-down back door. There's shattered glass strewn violently around the door and a small black hole in the centre of Frank's forehead. A tiny trickle of long dried blood has dripped down from the bullet wound to his open hazel eyes. Numbly, I pull my cell phone from my pocket and dial the police. I don't talk into it, they can trace the call, and my voice won't work.
Gerard. Fuck, Gerard. How am I supposed to tell him. I rise from Frank's body and turn to the door. I see Gerard huddled on the floor, in the corner. I go to him, on auto-pilot. "Gerard?" I rasp sorely. His hazel eyes flick up to my face and he smiles at me. I chill all over. His eyes are dead. "Bob?" He says thickly. I nod at him.
"You have to go, Frankie will be home soon. You have to go." He smiles at me again."Frankie will be home soon." He repeats and I can't do anything but nod. There are sirens in the distance.