FicWad

Sorry for the wait everyone. I kept wanting to update last week but I've been swamped with school work and auditions (for those of you that don't know, I'm a theater geek). But hopefully chapters will be up more consistently from now on. Oh, and I got my first green chapter last week! I can't begin to tell you how happy that made me. I felt like jumping around and screaming like a 2 year old :D Overly excited? Maybe. Whatever, don't ruin my fun.
Anyway, hope you all like this chapter :)

-ASM x3




Frank's POV



Tap Tap Tap
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"Hey, kid, do you mind? I'm trying to get some sleep." 


I look up from my mindless tapping on the hand rest next to me to be met by a petite brunette across the aisle who looks annoyed beyond belief. There's a restless toddler cuddled beside her so I can't tell if that annoyance is aimed at me or her son who has refused to stay in his seat for the past hour.


"Sorry" I say, and immediately seize tapping along to a Misfits song that's stuck in my head.


She shoots me a glare and turns away to continue napping. The ruckus throughout the flight has decreased considerably and most passengers are now either trying to get some sleep or entertaining themselves with electronic devices or books. I glance at the time displayed on the luminous screen in the head rest in front of me and realize that Gerard's been gone for almost half an hour. What's taking him so long? Maybe something's wrong. Should I go check on him or does that seem too forward for someone he just met?


I try to stay seated and keep my mind occupied, not wanting to give Gerard a reason to think I'm some kind of freak and not like me. Wait a second, why am I so worried about his opinion anyway? I didn't like Gerard off the bat, he reminds me too much of my father. Not because he resembles him whatsoever, Gerard is way too beautiful to look like that prick. His mind numbing green eyes with swirls of hazel contrast the dead, rusty shade of my father's so greatly, but they do have one thing in common. That is the layer of hazy detachment that could only be caused by drugs and alcohol. 


I'll never understand why anyone would want to intoxicate themselves to the point that they lose all coherent judgement. Don't get me wrong, I can enjoy a drink or two every now and then, but that's just on the rare occasion that I want to unwind and enjoy myself. I would never drink so much that I'd lose myself to the alcohol and in result, lose contact with who I am. As for drugs, I don't think I'd ever go near them. Just can't see the appeal.


The question is, why is someone as captivating as Gerard falling victim to all these influences? After hearing him speak about his brother, he obviously has a great relationship with him and maybe with the rest of his family as well. After hearing him talk about his favorite books and authors, it's obvious that he's intelligent, so he must have no problem when it comes to his studies. He has this witty charm to him that keeps you enthralled in whatever topic he is going on about, which must mean he has tons of friends. And by first glance, it's obvious that Gerard is uniquely, heart breakingly stunning. That of course, means he has no trouble having women and men alike falling at his feet. Including myself and that slutty blonde of a flight attendant.


Just as the thought of that bimbo enters my mind, I hear a high pitched, annoying laugh come from the back of the plane. I am already seated in the last row so it has to be coming from either the restroom area or the flight attendants quarters. The laugh flows through the stuffy air of the small plane once again and I decide to go investigate. Not because I'm nosy, I just have nothing better to do and I might be just a bit hopeful that I'll run into Gerard. 


I begin to walk quietly to the back, not wanting to disturb any sleeping passengers further, and head towards the direction of the laughter. I check the two restrooms and both are empty. Where the fuck is Gerard? I walk further back, to a section that I'm probably not allowed in, and peak around the corner, not wanting to draw attention to myself. There, leaning casually against the grey counter is Gerard, and much to my dismay, the laughter is coming from the blonde that is standing too close to Gerard for my liking, hand resting on his chest. I catch sight of a name tag pinned to her shirt that I hadn't noticed earlier. It has "Stacy" written in bubbly cursive on it with a heart drawn next to it. So the slut has a name.


Gerard's hair is more disheveled than earlier and he's gripping on to the counter like he might fall over if he lets go. I examine his face and notice the grin placed on it that could melt anyone's knee caps in a heart beat. The grin however, doesn't meet his eyes. They are still hinted with the pain that I noticed earlier but something else is shielding them. I don't even have to check his pupils to figure it out; he's high. 


Is that why he wandered off in the first place? Is that what he was checking for in his pocket? I didn't think much of the gesture at the time but now it makes perfect sense. 
I don't know what to be more repulsed by, the fact that Gerard is high or that he's back here flirting with that slut. Was he lying when he told me he was gay? He did say he's dated girls. Maybe he just lied to humor me. 


I lean my head further into the small room and see Gerard bring his hand to the girl's waist. He lets it rest there as he pulls her closer to him and whispers something in her ear. I can't hear what it is but she soon pulls back, smiles, nods her head frantically, and hurries off to another part of the plane. Gerard is left alone and once she's out of sight, all traces of that charming smile are gone from his features. He slumps his shoulders and runs his hands through the hair on his now lowered head. I hear Gerard sigh loudly before looking up again.


I pull back from the corner before he can see me and walk into one of the small restrooms. I slam the steel door forcefully behind me, feeling a mix of anger and disappointment as I fumble with the lock. Gerard seemed so convincing when he was displaying his disgust towards that bimbo not too long ago, but obviously that was all an act. Why would Gerard even look at her twice? That peroxide blonde, fake tanned, bad attitude, whore named Stacy doesn't deserve someone as angelic looking and utterly perfect as Gerard. Only, Gerard isn't as perfect as I was trying to convince myself he is. Not when he's poisoning himself with the same substances that ruined my childhood.


Listen to me, I sound like some heart broken teenage girl. Get a grip Frank. It's not like he was even interested in me to begin with. If I even want a chance at surviving on my own, I've got to stop acting so immature. As soon as I get myself together, I'm going to walk back to my seat, try to get some sleep, and forget all about this.



Gerard's POV



I hear the sound of high heels approaching in the distance and figure it's Stacy making her way back. I can't stand forcefully flirting with her, but I have no choice if I plan on getting what I want. Just one more drink and I'll head back to my seat, I tell myself. I don't think I could stomach being in her presence much longer. Plus, there's a sexy, hazel eyed male model sitting beside me that I'd like to get back to talking to.


"We were out of beer, but I made you a little something stronger I'm sure you'll enjoy."


She closes the distance between us until she's a few inches away from me and places the clear plastic cup in my hands. The liquid inside of it is also clear and after taking a desperate sip, I figure out that it's Sprite mixed with Grey Goose. I groan in pleasure at the familiar burn in the pit of my throat and Stacy lets another annoying giggle leave her lips.


"Knew you'd like it." she says.


She then leans into me further and places a kiss at the corner of my mouth. I freeze both in shock and in fear of moving any further that the kiss will move to my lips. I have to hold back a gag just at the thought of it. Stacy must notice my reaction because she pulls back and begins to form a blush on her too skinny cheeks. That doesn't get in her way of continuing to make a move on me however. It seems like when it comes to girls like Stacy, being pushed away just turns them on even more. And people wonder why I'm gay.


Stacy grabs the hand that isn't holding the cup and intertwines our fingers together before coming closer to me and placing kisses along my neck. I start to panic and think up excuses of why I need to return to my seat when I hear foot steps coming towards the flight attendants quarters. Stacy hears them as well because she stops what she's doing and takes a few steps away from me. The male attendant appears at the door way dressed in the same uniform as Stacy, minus the slutty alterations.


"Stacy? What have I told you about this? You can't just bring passengers back here as you please and have your way with them. Get back to work before I'm forced to report this to human resources."


By the sounds of it, this isn't the first time Stacy has done something like this. Why am I not surprised? The man's threat must have really intimidated her because she quickly mutters an apology and disappears down the aisle. I take this as my cue to escape and head back to my seat.


I was hoping to find Frank where I left him a while ago, but once I get close enough, I notice that his seat is empty. I shrug it off and figure that he must have gone to the restroom or something. I take another sip from drink and sink down into my seat. The pills and alcohol are working beautifully and I feel great. My headache is now completely gone and I feel like I don't have a care in the world. I have successfully hidden all negative and depressing thoughts at the back of my consciousness. Thank fuck for that, because thinking like that any longer would have made me break down in front of Frank and I don't exactly fancy making an idiot out of myself in the presence of extremely attractive guys.


A few minutes of day dreaming about pointless things later and I see Frank taking his seat next to me from the corner of my eye. I immediately smile and turn towards him, ready to pick up our conversation from where we left off. Only, when I look at his face, he seems distant and upset. I'm about to ask what's bothering him when he shoves a hand into the back pocket of his jeans and pulls out a black, tattered iPod. He plugs the white headphones into his ears without so much as a glance in my direction and turns his full attention to the music that is blaring from the device in his hands.


Did I do something wrong? Frank was so friendly and talkative earlier. Well, after we made a truce to stop acting like total jerks to one another. Maybe he just finally realized that I'm not worthy of even sharing a conversation with someone like him. I was stupid to think he was enjoying talking to me half as much as I was enjoying talking to him. I can't help but wonder why he was so quick to hate me though. I hadn't even said two words to him before he decided that he despised me. Perhaps he's just a really good person reader. He must have seen right through me and seen the depressed, inconsiderate, worthless junkie that I've turned into and wanted nothing to do with me. I can't say I blame him.


I turn my attention back to the cup I had placed in the cup holder between Frank and I and take a long gulp, successfully emptying it of it's delicious contents. I see Frank observing me from the corner of his eye and a deep frown sets on his plump lips. That's it, I've got to talk to him some how or I'm going to go insane from curiosity. Since the head phones are still plugged firmly into his ears, I have to think up another form of communicating with him. I remember the pen I always keep in my pocket and take it out. I fish through the brochures and pamphlets in the seat pocket in front of me and find one with enough empty space to write on.


I sit there and stare at the paper for a few seconds, wondering how I should start. While contemplating, the song on Frank's iPod changes and it's loud enough that I recognize the opening guitar riff. Idea.


Smashing Pumpkins? Nice


I place the piece of paper in Frank's lap and await his reaction. At first he seems confused, but after reading my short message, the small ghost of a smile haunts his face. I offer him my pen and he takes it, hopefully to write back.


Yup. How'd you know?


He hands back both the pen and paper back to me and I try wiping the stupid grin off my face at the fact that Frank bothered to reply before he notices it.


I don't know, guess I'm just a mind reader. I'm sure it has nothing to do with the fact that your iPod is turned up so loud I'm pretty sure that senile old lady down the aisle can hear it.


Frank looks up once he reads my message to glance at the lady I am referring to and erupts in a fight of giggles.


It's not that loud, smart ass.


I know the next part is going to come across as flirting, which isn't too far off of my intentions, but I'm kind of anxious to see how Frank might react. He'll either be repulsed and throw the paper back in my face, or there may be a very slim chance that he'll flirt back. I have my fingers tightly crossed for that second option.


Nice to see you've been observing my ass. But I can assure you it's not just smart ;)


I don't turn to see Frank's reaction this time, I just avert my gaze to window to my right and hope that he doesn't think I'm being too pushy or creepy. Moments later, the paper is pushed back into my lap.


Well, it's kind of difficult to ignore.


After reading that, I can't hold back the smile and blush that comes to my face instantly. I look over to Frank and he's smiling back at me. He takes the headphones out of his ears and turns off his iPod before speaking out loud again.


"I'm not an artist or anything, but aren't these those really expensive pens people use to draw comics?"


He motions to the pen he still has a hold of and turns it around in his hands like he's holding a precious jewel.


"Yeah, actually, it is."


I smile slightly, pleased that Frank even knows how these pens look like. Maybe he's into comics just as much as I am.


"You draw then?"


"A bit."


I leave out the fact that I use to draw a lot more before I fell into the bad habits I now have that take up all the time I normally would spend locked in my basement room, working on comics with Mikey.


"I bet you're great. Oh! Draw something for me? Please!"


I laugh at how excited Frank seems to get over small things. That seems to be one of his most prominent traits that I find adorable beyond belief.


"Um…I don't know. I don't think I'm very good."


"Come on! I'll decide that for myself."


Frank opens up his eyes and pushes out his bottom lip, trying to persuade me further. How could I turn down that look?


"Okay, okay."


"Yes!"


He pulls his arm towards his chest as a sign of victory and I roll my eyes at his persistence. I chew on the top of my pen cap, trying to decide what to draw. I make up my mind and stick to something I'm comfortable drawing. Soon enough, I'm putting the finishing touches on my quick sketch and hand over the paper so Frank can see. He practically rips the paper from my hands in excitement and squeals when he lays eyes on it.


"This is so awesome! How could you doubt yourself for a second? You're obviously really talented."


The drawing on the paper is of a cartoonish looking vampire that I've perfected over the years. It's become simple for me to draw at this point but I added some extra shading to it in order to impress Frank. And by the looks of it, I succeeded in that task.


"Thanks. You can keep it if you'd like."


I find myself feeling quite pleased at Frank's compliment and I like the idea of Frank carrying around something I made for him.


"Really? Sweet!"


Yes, you are.


The next hour or two, I don't keep track so I can't be so sure, are spent with easy flowing conversation and occasional flirting. I learn a lot about Frank in this time. Like, that he goes to a Catholic school. I can't help but laugh at that. Partially because Frank doesn't seem the type to be hanging around with Bible praising lunatics and partially because I can just picture him dressed in that conservative, formal uniform. That thought eventually leads me down a much different train of thought involving Frank in an opened button up shirt, tight dress pants, and certain activities involving a ruler. I snap that idea out of my head before my blood decides to run south and make this situation much more awkward than it needs to be.


At this point, most of the passengers on the plane have fallen asleep. I look over at Frank and his eyes are starting to close against his will. He lets out a cute little yawn but tries hiding it behind his fist.


"Tired?"


I ask, not wanting to end our conversation but guilty that I'm keeping him up at the same time.


"No, I'm okay."


He tries and fails to stifle another yawn. I can tell that's a lie but I'm not about to argue with him if he's willing to keep talking to me. Our conversation flows to comic books and I was right, Frank loves them just as much. We discuss our favorite superheroes and comics and I go on a rant about how pointless I think Speedball is. He laughs at all my funny, yet valid, points but after a while he falls silent. When I look over to see if he's still paying attention, I see Frank with his head tilted back against the headrest, mouth slightly open, and his chest is rising and falling in an even rhythm.


I can't help but just stare at him for a while, he looks so innocent while he's asleep, but some how makes it look sexy at the same time. His features are peaceful and smooth, but his rebellious hair is scrunched up in the back where it's rubbing against the head rest and his long fringe is draped over his left eye.


I decide this is a good a time as any to get some rest too, so I settle down in my seat and get comfortable. I feel restless at first, not being able to keep my eyes shut for more than five minutes at a time, but after a few more tries I begin to feel sleep take me under. Just as I'm about to fall completely I hear a small whimper beside me. At first I think it might be one of the younger passengers on board, but then I hear it again and it sounds too close to be the little boy across the aisle.


I turn to face Frank and realize that he's crying in his sleep. His face that was peaceful at rest before is now scrunched up in agony and tears are falling steadily from his close eyelids, down his pale cheeks. He must be having a terrible dream. What do I do? Do I wake him up or do I wait and see if it passes? I really don't want to disturb him so I decide to try and comfort him, hopefully chasing the bad dream away without having to wake him up. I bring one of my hand up to cup his cheek and wipe away some tears with my thumb. They keep cascading down his face like roaring waterfall and all I wish at that moment is that I could protect him from the monsters intruding in his dreams.


I use my other hand and take one of his in mine, rubbing soothing circles in his palm. This seems to calm him down somewhat because his tears begin to decrease in amount until they completely stop all together. I smile at my small accomplishment and reluctantly take my hands away from Frank. But as soon as I'm back to lying down on my seat, Frank shifts in his seat and cuddles up to my side, leaning his head on my shoulder.


I know he'll probably be embarrassed when he awakes and finds himself in this position but I decide to take advantage of the moment. My arm is now in an uncomfortable position pressed under Frank's weight on my side so I bring it to rest around his waist, in result making him sink even deeper into my side.


The restlessness I was feeling earlier melts away at this comforting contact and before I know it I'm drifting off to pleasant dreams filled with mousy brown hair and sparkling hazel eyes.



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