FicWad

“No,” Frank said loudly, and to Gerard's complete shock.
“What?” he murmured, unmoving. Keeping his arms around Frank and his face inches from his.
“I said n-no.” it looked like Frank was having a lot of trouble getting these words out.
Gerard didn't understand. Fuck, does he not want me like this? he thought. Did I do something wrong?
“It's not you fault,” Frank stammered as Gerard started to go red, “well, it kind of is, I really really really really want to screw you but...” he trailed off and rolled on to his back, staring at the ceiling. “It wouldn't be fair.”
“How would it not be fair?” Gerard retorted heatedly. “You think you'd be taking advantage of innocent little me? Stop putting yourself above me!”
“I'm not, Gerard, I'm honestly not.” he sounded slightly frustrated turned his face towards him and Gerard immediately believed and trusted the pained eyes staring back at him.
“Explain.” he muttered.
“Well, you've just spend like the last few hours crying your eyes out on my sofa. And then I walk in all half naked and horny and you're all big eyed and you refuse – but then half an hour later you walk in looking lost and lonely and you crawl into my bed and everything's fine but Gerard, you're still crying.” he gulped. “I know you really want me – not to sound um, big headed...” well that worked. You sound so up yourself it's hardly believeable. Gerard was winding himself up, and both of them knew it.
“Listen to me!” Frank continued. “I want you too, okay? I'm not rejecting you, but I can't t-take advantage of you when you're like this. Don't cry.” he almost whispered it.
There was a silence, filled only by Frank's heavy sighs and Gerard's whimpering breaths that were threatening to break out into sobs. He couldn't understand why Frank was doing this – hadn't he been all about the easy fuck, the 'I don't care about people as long as I have somewhere to get off'? This moment contradicted his entire attitude to everything. Which got Gerard thinking...is there another side to Frank? A slightly less idiotic side?
“I don't get it.” he frowned, tears still falling. “And I'm only crying because I can't stop myself and because I-I've ruined everything...”
And then it came to him. Frank was lying. He didn't want Gerard now because he was crying his fucking eyes out and his nose was running and his face was all red and his hair was plastered to his forehead and he looked horrible and so understandably, who would want that?
And he started sobbing even harder.
“What is it?” Frank said quietly. “What?”
Gerard shook his head and burrowed his face into the duvet, curling up and trembling. If he tried to speak now it would only come out in silly, awkward squeaks that wouldn't help anything. Frank seemed to understand, because he lay there breathing deeply and waiting for Gerard to explain. After a few minutes he rested a hand gently on the back of his head and stroked, signalling to him that everything was okay, and that he was still there, waiting and listening.
Eventually Gerard's sobs lessened and he turned over, lying on his side to face Frank and bringing the blanket up to his chin.
“I look like shit, right?” he whispered simply because if he tried to speak, his voice would crack and break.
Frank looked troubled for a second, and then he snorted.
“See,” Gerard spat bitterly, closing his eyes. “I look like shit and that's why you're refusing.”
Horrified, Frank grimaced. “I sniggered because it's like the middle of the night and I just sucked you off and you pulled the sexiest face I have possibly ever seen and you're worried that you look 'shit?'” He raised his eyebrows, and Gerard looked at him, eyes wide. “If you're that worried I can turn the light off. 'Turn off the lights and turn off the shyness,' you know.”
“Cause' all of our moves make up for the silence...” Gerard muttered, as Frank stretched over and flicked the light off. Gerard watched as he did; seeing his bare chest stretching across a bed in order to make Gerard feel more secure about himself was something he wasn't sure he'd be seeing again.
They couldn't really see anything anymore and so as they waited of their eyes to adapt, Gerard felt himself pulling Frank closer.
“You won't sleep with me,” Gerard said dazedly, “but that doesn't mean I'm going to ignore the fact that I'm in bed with someone I actually want to be in bed with.”
Frank smirked in the darkness. “You'd never forgive me in the morning if I did. In fact you're probably going to go mental about what happened anyway.” he sighed and put an arm around Gerard's middle, pulling him closer.
“Um.” Gerard shivered slightly, involuntarily. “If it helps at all I'm sorry in advance. It's not like I could properly regret it anyways.” he smiled to himself, letting go of his situation with his wife and the problem of the days to come the second he felt Frank's breath gracing his collarbone.
“And why not?” Frank muttered sleepily, lips tickling Gerard's skin.
“Best. Blowjob. Ever.” he smiled to himself in the darkness, sleep coming to him as easily and quickly as his orgasm had...

-

Frank awoke the next morning and peeled himself away from the slightly sticky Gerard, momentarily overwhelmed by the urge to kiss him but then distracted by thoughts of what had happened the night before. He'd let way too much of himself go, more than he could account for – Gerard would think he was kind, sweet, an easy pushover. Frank couldn't deal with that.
So he crawled out of bed and pulled on his jeans from the day before, deciding to stay shirtless because he still wanted Gerard to think he was the hottest guy on earth.
Cause I am, right? Frank thought as he ruffled his hair in the mirror, applying a sliver of eyeliner quickly and heading in to the kitchen.
Yawning, Gerard was awoken by the sound of the kettle rattling and he stretched out in the empty bed, eyes blinking open when he didn't feel a body beside him. He realised that Frank was in the kitchen and he lay there, still naked, temporarily shocked by what had happened the night before.
He was shocked for three reasons. One: he'd let Frank give him a blowjob. Two: he'd enjoyed it. Three: he didn't particularly regret it.
He sat up and saw his boxers about to fall off the end of the bed. Grabbing them he remembered that all his other clothes were in the living room and he didn't know what to do – if he went in with his duvet and Frank saw him, he'd look like an idiot.
So he crept through just in his underwear, hugging himself and trying to move quietly. Frank had been so considerate last night, so...he had to thank him, but just not when he was almost naked.
Frank walked in just as he was pulling his jeans over his waist, zipping them up without seeing him. He raised his eyebrows when he did and pulled a shirt on, frowning that Frank had only made one coffee, but deciding to ignore it.
“Hi,” he said, perching on the end of the sofa. Frank didn't say anything and just ambled back into the kitchen, so Gerard followed.
“I'm um,” he said, floating around in the doorway, “not angry about anything, like you said I would be-”
“Said you might, Gerard. I had hope.” he muttered, facing the other way and opening the cupboards at random.
“Yeah, well either way, thanks for like...not taking advantage of me. It was really kind of you.”
Frank turned around slightly red in the face and leant against the kitchen counter, his expression unreadable – he looked angry, yet innocent and weirdly kind of hurt.
“I'm not kind.” he said quietly. “That...” If you're going to do this, Frank, you have to be convincing, he told himself. Speaking loudly and much more clearly, he looked directly into Gerard's eyes to tell the lie.
“That wasn't the real reason. I just didn't w-want to break it to you then that you really weren't making me hard, because you'd have gotten into an even more helpless state and I didn't want to deal with that.”
Gerard was silent, eyes fixed on Frank's glaring eyes and a look of pure bitterness evident on his face. He didn't know what to say, he didn't understand...Frank was the one who had always wanted him so much and tried to hit on him and led him away from his wife. And now he felt like an idiot, felt like he was the one who was acting desperate, and he hated it.
“I'm going.” he said quietly, blinking back tears furiously.
“Well I'm not driving you, take the bus.” Frank retorted, spinning around and slamming his mug on the tabletop with his back to Gerard, waiting for him to leave.
So he did, gathering his stuff silently – the change on the coffee table, the jacket by the door – and left without saying goodbye, slamming the door behind him and using every gram of energy he had on stopping himself from crying within sight. He'd save it for his girlfriend, let his tears out then, because maybe it would convince her to take him back, if he genuinely seemed sorry...
Gerard caught the first bus he saw and ignored the scrutinizing glare of the passengers, raising their eyebrows at his rumpled clothes and unbrushed hair. He hadn't actually looked in the mirror and his eyes felt puffy and small which probably didn't help his already poor image; as he sat with his forehead against the window, body vibrating from the rough engine and watching everybody walk past, minding their own business and never reaching out, never opening up to each other, only hurrying through the rain to their own busy lives, a lone tear leaked from his eye and he didn't bother wiping it away. He didn't give a fuck who saw, or how messed up they thought he was. They don't know anything.
He slunk off the bus with a look of guilt on his face, pulling his hood up just incase any more tears escaped. He didn't want to think about what Frank had said and he was trying so hard not to, but the words kept coming back to him...'you weren't really making me hard.'
He gasped involuntarily to stifle a sob and trudged up to his house, feet scuffing on the gravel. The car wasn't there – his fiancée wasn't in.
The spare key was under the door and once he'd let himself in, Gerard broke down. He just collapsed in the doorway and brought his knees to his chest, shaking violently from the sobs, willing himself to stop but not being able to push away the thoughts running constantly through his mind.
I wasn't making him hard. I wasn't. He's not kind, he's just a liar, and I'm just ugly and stupid and idiotic and foolish and I believed him...
But Frank had been hard, before. He'd said he'd even jacked off to the thought of him. What was the lie? Everything was so confusing, and then there was his fucking girlfriend and how mental she'd be when she finally saw him again and the fact that he'd been kicked out. Was he even supposed to be back here? Would she just throw him out again?
He pulled himself up and kicked his shoes off, thinking it would help to look slightly more presentable. He wiped his eyes and tried to think happy thoughts...great blowjob, right? Frank looked hot. I slept pretty well.
That was all he could come up with.
He clenched his fists and stomped upstairs, tears still running. His wardrobe was hanging open and one of his shirts was mixed up with the duvet on the unmade bed. Had his fiancée been sleeping with his shirt?
He sat down and picked it out, bringing it to his face and wiping his tears with it. She'd missed him enough to do that? She cared enough to do that? And there he was, getting all friendly with some other guy...no wonder she was angry.
He tore off his shirt with sudden energy and pulled on another: simple, grey and hopefully clean, but didn't bother changing his jeans. As he looked in the mirror in the bathroom he was sent into a little sobbing fit as he saw how much of a mess he looked. He really didn't like what he saw and there wasn't much he could do about it, except brush his hair and splash his face with water quickly. A few years ago he would've whipped out his white foundation and eyeliner and slapped in on and – voila, he'd look perfect – but that was then, before his girlfriend and the house and the responsibilities and his life becoming horrendously empty and futile.
On his way downstairs again the door rang and he sighed, trying to prepare himself mentally for the arrival of his potentially hysterical girlfriend. She was like a spider and he was trapped in her web, and now she was angry he could only sit and wait for her to come and eat him alive.
“Hurry up!”
That wasn't his girlfriend. That was a man's voice. That was...Frank's voice.
He didn't want him now. He didn't want to be anywhere near him, ever.
“Y-you can't come in!” he shouted through the door, rubbing his eyes and shuffling around on the carpet.
“Oh fuck off, Gerard, just let me in, it's cold.”
Gerard could hear the gravel scraping as Frank hopped around, apparently trying to keep warm.
“No, what do you w-want?” his voice broke slightly and he ran his hands through his hair, not knowing what to do. If he let Frank in everything would just get worse, but he doubted that Frank would go away any time soon.
“I want to talk to yo- shit, it's so cold, I'm not really wearing much here.” he added, a sense of urgency in his voice.
Gerard bit his lip and wrenched the door open to see Frank standing there shirtless in the rain. “I knew that would persuade you.” he smirked.
“M- idiot, what the hell do you think you're doing?” Gerard's voice was still squeaking, and tears were still falling as Frank stepped through the doorway and made his own way into the kitchen, Gerard following obediently.
“Well I didn't have time to dress properly. As soon as you left I realised how much a mess your fiancée was going to make of your self esteem and- speaking of her, where is she?” he asked, looking around as if he'd simply overlooked her.
“Oh, you'd know if she was here.” Gerard stammered. “She'd be making her presence very well known, and probably making yours non-existent.”
Silence.
“I haven't forgiven you, by the way.” he choked.
Frank ignored him completely. He was torn – I can't let him think I'm some kind of cute little gay boy. I'm Frank Iero, I don't give a fuck...but then, Gerard needs someone to look after him. He needs this, before he gives up.
“Anyway I've come to defend your honour.” he said, jumping up to the table and perching precariously on the edge.
“You what?” Gerard muttered, shuffling over to the window and staring miserably at the rain bouncing off of Frank's shiny car.
“She's going to shout at you, I'm going to shout back.” he shrugged. “Simple as that.”
“No!” Gerard spun around, looking shocked. “You'll just make everything worse. You'll get in the way, like...like you always do.”
“Thanks so much. That's not what you thought last night, anyway. 'So fucking good Frankie, mmm..'” he mimicked, biting his lip and letting his hands run to his crotch teasingly. Gerard closed his eyes. “Shut up.” he whispered.
The silence of the rainfall was interrupted by the sound of a car pulling up and Gerard looked outside; his girlfriend was marching up to the door, brow furrowed angrily.
“Fuck.” he sighed. “No.” putting his head in his hands, Gerard sank to the floor and leant against the dishwasher, gazing up at Frank helplessly.
“She's already seen your car,” he said, exasperated. “She's going to kill me, Frank, and you being here won't help at all...”
They sat staring at each other, eyes devoid of hope, listening to the door slam and the heels being kicked off, each action punctuated by heavy sighs filled with the emotion she was bursting to let out. As she strolled into the kitchen Gerard pulled his eyes away from Frank's and to hers – Frank's are gorgeous in comparison, he thought – before shaking himself and standing up to greet her.
“Sorr-”
“What gives you the right to be back here, Gerard?” she spat, not even giving him a chance.
“It's my house!” he retorted frantically, frustrated that he hadn't had the opportunity to even start the conversation in a positive way...
“But after what you've done, I don't think you really deserve too.” She sounded derogative, like she was so much better than him. That, Gerard believed.
“I haven't done anything! Nothing at all!” the tears were coming more heavily already and he wiped his eyes, vision flickering to the silent Frank in the corner and knowing that those words were a lie.
“Oh yeah, it's really nothing.” she said sarcastically. “Where did you go last night then? Did you have fun? Did you forget about me already?” she strutted over to the fridge and wrenched it open, grabbing a diet coke.
“No,” Gerard muttered, “how could I fucking forget.”
“He was at my house,” said Frank, “what did you want him to do? Sleep on the streets?”
“YOU! What the fuck do you think you're doing here? Get out!” she spat, twisting around to face him.
“Don't think I will, honey.”
“You better, or I'll...I'll...”She looked back at Gerard, narrowing her eyes, and made a noise of pure frustration. “Tell him to leave, Gerard. You don't want him here. He's just making everything worse. How dare you bring him back here...”
“I came here by myself, actually.” Frank still sounded calm, innocent.
“Tell him, Gerard!” she shouted frantically.
“Yeah, go on, Gee,” Frank smirked, “throw me out. You for one know how great that feels. You don't want me here.” he leant back on the kitchen surface and stretched out his legs; Gerard couldn't help but stare. The way those jeans fitted him, gripping on to every curve and dip, and they were so tight...
“Stop looking at him!” she shrieked.
“N-no,” he said, screwing up his eyes in fear, “why should Frank have to go?”
“Because! Because it's not his house! Because he's nasty and filthy and not the sort of person I like to be seen with, Gerard!”
“Who cares who you like to be seen with?” he murmured. “and this technically isn't your house either.”
“No, Gerard.” she said, trembling slightly. “Don't say that. Don't you dare. Do you want me to leave!?”
Nobody spoke; nobody dared. Gerard was slowly turning red again and the tears weren't helping, pouring out constantly without any consideration for the situation at all. Stop it, Gerard. You're so useless. Stop it, he thought.
Frank was trying to look unfocused, dazed, but his thoughts were completely on the people in front of him: there was Gerard's fiancée, glaring at the two of them, hands on her hips and fuming. There was Gerard himself look ridiculously sleepy, crying silently with a look of pure self-hatred in his eyes. Gerard, no, he wanted to say, don't hate yourself. You're gorgeous and clever and so so so worth it and I want to make you feel better but I...don't know how...
“I guess I should've known.” she said bitterly, “I'm leaving. Don't even think about trying to stop me.” She stormed out of the room and Frank immediately slipped down and pulled Gerard into a surprisingly gentle hug before he had the chance to become hysterical; he was shaking from the sobs and his eyes were screwed up tightly, shutting everything out...yet Frank's presence was filtering through the darkness.
He didn't even know why he was so upset; he hardly liked his fiancée.
He just felt like his world had cracked and slowly shattered, falling to the concrete floor in cold sharp pieces that stabbed at his troubled skin whenever they had the chance; the only thing staunching the wounds were the Frank's warm, comforting arms, protecting him from harm.



- so yeah. It's difficult writing this right now because I'm not really allowed to be on the laptop much, so this may have some errors as I've sat down about eight times to write and been interrupted each time XD Hope you enjoy it anyways! Gerard's in a bad place right now isn't he cries
Thanks for reading xoxo