Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance

Crayon Hearts and Trembling Hands (highschool Frerard)

by StormVandal 27 reviews

He flung himself facedown onto his bed. Stupid Ray. Stupid Mikey. Stupid Frankie... No, Frankie wasn’t stupid... Stupid crush. Yes, that was better. Stupid, stupid crush. [MINOR EDITS]

Category: My Chemical Romance - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Angst,Drama,Romance - Characters: Frank Iero,Gerard Way - Warnings: [?] - Published: 2011-09-28 - Updated: 2012-04-17 - 1848 words - Complete

Five-year-old Gerard was at his desk, his feet dangling off the ground as he sat in his big spinning chair. His tongue poked out of the corner of his mouth as he concentrated fiercely on his work. As he reached for the red crayon, there was a knock on the door and his mother poked her head into the room.

“Gerard, sweetie,” she said, “Frank’s going to be here in five minutes.”

Gerard beamed. His mom smiled at his excitement as she went back downstairs.

Gerard turned back to his almost-finished drawing. He used the blue crayon to carefully write out his message and signed it with a big G in the corner, just as the doorbell rang.

“Frankie!” he squealed, jumping off his chair. He raced down the stairs with his work clutched in hand and was greeted at the bottom by a big hug from his best friend. Frankie gave the best hugs.

“Gee!” the smaller boy yelled happily. His giant grin showed off his missing front tooth. “I missed you!”

“You saw me yesterday, Frankie,” Gerard giggled.

“So? I still missed you!”

Gerard giggled again. “I missed you too.”

“What’s this?” Frank asked, eying the piece of paper in Gerard’s hand.

Gerard held it out to him. He looked from the paper to Gerard, an amazed expression on his
face. “For me?” he asked, awed.

Gerard nodded vigorously. Frank took it and looked at it carefully. In the middle of the page was a big red heart. At the bottom, in big, messy, five-year-old scribble was “I love you Frankie!”

Frank looked up at Gerard, beaming, and hugged him again. “Thank you, Gee,” he said. “It’s beautiful. “


Eleven years later

Gerard flopped down onto Frank’s bed, causing Frank, who was already sitting on it, to bounce slightly.

“I hate my math teacher!” he complained, scowling. “She gave us so much homework!”

“Aw, poor Gee,” Frank teased.

Gerard shot him a dirty look.

“Oh, come on, it’s Friday! Smile!” Frank exclaimed, bouncing around.

Gerard remained stubbornly grumpy.

“Smile for me, Gee!” Frank practically yelled, before leaning over and beginning to tickle Gerard’s armpit.

Gerard squealed, flailing around a bit and laughing helplessly, before rolling over to try and escape and rolling right off the bed. He hit the floor with a thud.

“Shit,” Frank said, scrambling to the edge of the mattress and looking down at him. “You okay, man?”

“Yeah,” Gerard gasped, staring up at the ceiling. He turned his head to the side. There was a piece of paper near his hand, under the bed. He grabbed it and held it in front of his face. He recognized it immediately. It was the drawing he’d done for Frank when they were five.

“You still have this?” he asked, amazed. He held it up for Frank to see.

Frank blushed. “Um... y-yeah,” he stammered, ducking his head in embarrassment.

Gerard didn’t understand why Frank was embarrassed. He was touched.

“Frankie, that’s so nice!” he said, smiling.

“Really? It’s not weird or anything?” Frank sounded almost bitter.

Gerard frowned. “Of course not! Why would that be weird?”

Frank shrugged. “I don’t know.”

That was a lie. He did know. He just couldn’t tell Gerard that the reason he even had it out in the first place was that he spent every day wishing it was true.


“I’m home,” Gerard called out as he stepped through the front door later that evening, slamming it behind him. He didn’t really expect anyone to answer him- his parent's weren't home yet and Mikey was likely to ignore him- so he was a little surprised when, from the living room, he heard Ray yell “Hey, Gee-tard!”

“Hey, Ray,” said Gerard, wandering through to where Mikey and Ray were sitting on the couch watching TV.

“Where’ve you been?” Ray asked.

“Frank’s house,” Gerard muttered, knowing what was coming.

“Oh,” said Ray, smirking. “And have you told him that you’re madly in love with him yet?”

And there it was.

He shot Ray a death glare.

“Aw, Ray, don’t tease him,” said Mikey, barely concealing a smirk of his own.

Gerard didn’t say anything. He just turned and left the room.

He went up to his bedroom and flung himself facedown onto his bed. Stupid Ray. Stupid Mikey. Stupid Frankie... No, Frank wasn’t stupid. It wasn’t his fault. Stupid crush. Yes, that was better. Stupid, stupid crush.

He kind of wanted to throw a temper tantrum- scream into his pillow, beat his fists into the mattress, kick his feet around in the air and cry until he ran out of tears. But instead he just lay there with his face buried in his pillow, willing himself to grow a pair and just talk to Frank about it.

Then he had a brainwave.


Once again, Gerard sat at his desk, although his feet no longer dangled off the ground. After much digging around, he had found some crayons, and now he reached for the red one. He still had the habit of sticking his tongue out of the corner of his mouth when he concentrated (much to Frank’s amusement), and he was doing that now.

It took him a bit longer to finish what he was doing this time. When he finished, he sat back and studied his work, butterflies making their presence known in the pit of his belly. He wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to do this- what if Frank laughed? What if he freaked out? What if he got angry? But he had to do it. If he didn’t, he was going to go crazy. Keeping that kind of secret is harder than you might think.

Sighing, he piled all his papers together. Tomorrow, he would go see Frank again.


Saturday morning

Frank had barely gotten out of bed and dressed when there was a knock at the door. However, all thoughts about how it was early considering it was a Saturday and who the hell’s calling at this time? disappeared and were replaced with concern when he opened the door and found his scared-looking best friend on the doorstep clutching a folder.

“I really need to talk to you,” Gerard said in a low voice.

Frank’s brow furrowed. “Sure,” he said. “Of course. Are you okay, Gee?”

“Mm,” said Gerard noncommittally.

Frank surveyed him. “You need a hug,” he decided out loud.

“No!” said Gerard quickly. “I’m good, thanks.”

“I thought you love my hugs,” said Frank, slightly hurt and rather bewildered. Gerard was always telling him how he gives the best hugs and how he loves them so much. Frank was glad for this. It meant he got to hug Gerard more than would usually be considered normal.

“I do!” said Gerard. “I just... I can’t... can I come in?”

“Oh!” said Frank, stepping aside. “Yeah. Of course. Sorry.”

Gerard followed him up the stairs to his room. He plonked himself down on the bed and Gerard followed suit.

“So... what’s up?” Frank ventured when Gerard had been silently staring at the floor for a good minute and a half.

Gerard shook his head and heaved a shaky sigh. “I must be out of my fucking mind,” he muttered, more to himself than Frank.

He pulled a pile of paper out of the folder he was holding. He placed the pile face-down next to him, picked up the paper on the top and held it up for Frank to see. Frank smiled softly. It was an almost exact copy of the eleven year old drawing that was currently sitting on his desk, except neater. I love you Frankie! it proclaimed and Frank once again wished bitterly that it was true.

Gerard handed it to him and picked up the next one.

Just not in the way that you think, it said.

Frank frowned, confused. He took the paper out of Gerard’s hands, which had started to tremble.

“Gee?” he said after a moment when Gerard made no move to pick up another paper.

Gerard hesitantly handed him the next page.

I don’t love you like a brother, like most people think I do.

Frank’s confusion deepened. He looked up at Gerard. His head was bowed, his black hair falling around his face.

“Gee?” he said again.

Gerard gestured helplessly at the pile, not looking at Frank. Frank reached out and picked up the next page, feeling nervous.

I don’t even love you as a friend.

Frank started to get a bit scared. What was he saying? That he didn’t want to be friends with Frank anymore? Or maybe... no. No way. There was no way he meant it the way Frank did.

There was only one more page. Frank picked it up tentatively .

I love you. I can’t stop thinking about you. You’re beautiful, Frankie. You’re beautiful and perfect and I love you. And it’s so wrong. You’re my best friend. I shouldn’t feel this way about you. But I do, I can’t help it. I love you, so much.

“I’m sorry,” said Gerard quietly, sounding absolutely terrified. “I needed to tell you or I was going to go crazy...”

Frank just sat there mutely, staring at the paper in his hands. He didn’t know what to say- he’d just found out that the very thing he’d dreamed of and wished for and spent countless hours thinking about was in fact, a reality. What could he say to that?

“Gee,” he said, voice trembling, “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to tell you the exact same thing.”

And then, when Gerard looked up in shock, Frank saw his chance and moved forward. His eyes slipped shut as he pressed his lips to Gerard’s.

It was nothing like the way he had imagined it. It was nothing like the way it was described in those stupid Harlequin romance novels that his mom bought for two dollars at the used book store, or the way it was shown in those dumb rom-coms Gerard and Frank had laughed at on lazy Saturday nights. There was no explosion, there were no fireworks, and no chorus of angels spontaneously appeared and burst into song. Instead, it was crayon hearts and trembling hands and it was sweet and it was wonderful and it was everything that either of them had ever wanted.

And when Frank pulled away, his cheeks tinged with pink and a shy little smile on his face, Gerard knew he’d made the right decision in digging out those crayons.

(A/N: I really need you guys to tell me if this is shitty, especially the last little bit. This is the first time I've written a story without my best friend's guidance. I wanted to surprise her, you see. So therefore, I'm really unsure about this.)
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