Untitled [6/?]
Title: Untitled [will be named at a later date]
Author:
silencing_sam
Pairing: Frank/Gerard
Rating: PG 13
Disclaimer: So I had this smart arse disclaimer which could rival the “Do not iron while wearing” one on clothes, but I forgot it =/
Summary: Gerard just doesn’t understand, and Frank fucks it up.
POV: Third
Dedications: For
ira_luxuria because she may as well be my best friend.
Author’s Notes: First multi-chaptered fic in a long time. Again, I'm not entirely happy with this, I know where I want to go with this story, but I'm having trouble getting there.
Chapter Six
The silence was deafening. There was no sound to hear, so Frank’s ears focused on his own pounding heart. If he could think, he probably would’ve been worried at how fast it was beating, but right at that moment, he couldn’t care less. Gerard wouldn’t meet his gaze, and that made Frank even more nervous.
“I said,” Frank swallowed thickly as he put the cup of coffee down and stood up straight, “I said, are you jealous?”
“Of Bob? I don’t. I don’t know,” Gerard frowned. He was silent for a few seconds while he tried to gather his thoughts into a more coherent order, before speaking them out loud, “Yes. I am. I thought I was your best friend? And suddenly, you just. And Bob. Bob, for crying out loud!”
“What’s wrong with Bob?” Frank asked harshly.
“Nothing. Nothings wrong with him. It’s just. I don’t know. We haven’t spoken properly in ages, Frank. You didn’t even tell me you liked Bob, let alone that you were sharing bunks with him!”
“I- Gerard. It isn’t like that, me and Bob, we’re not-“
“Not what, Frank? Because it looks to me like you are.”
Frank rubbed his hands down his face and around to the back of his neck, before lacing his fingers together at the base. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, before whispering, “ How, exactly, are you jealous?”
“What? That doesn’t even make sense. How am I jealous? Do you mean why?” At Franks nod, Gerard answered, “I don’t know. We just. We’ve drifted apart, and I hate that. We don’t talk anymore, I have no idea what’s going on in your life…”
Frank scoffed while he dropped his hands from his neck, and at Gerard’s questioning look he replied, “We’re driving back from a tour. I’m stuck on a bus with four other guys and a driver. There isn’t much ‘going on’ in my life right now,” he quoted.
Gerard’s head dropped into his hands and he mumbled something. Frank strained to hear it, but it was too quiet and he asked Gerard to repeat himself. He took his hands away from his mouth, but kept his head bent as he asked, “What about Bob?”
Frank wasn’t sure, but he thought Gerard’s voice had sounded hesitant, as though he didn’t want to know the answer. But he replied all the same, “If you’d have let me finish, I would’ve told you that nothing is going on between Bob and I. We're friends, just like you and I,” He added bitterly. Gerard didn't notice.
“Oh.”
“Yes, oh,” Frank sneered, “I woke him up the one night and we got talking about some stuff. He helped me to figure out my feelings and we’ve just been hanging out a lot more since. I fell asleep in his bunk that night, and you found us next morning. But you jumped to conclusions and assumed that something was going on. And when I got pissy and stormed off the bus, who was it that came to talk to me?” The anger Frank hadn’t felt before, was suddenly hitting him full force. “It was Bob. Not my best friend of almost five years. Bob. The guy that cares about me enough to follow me, even when he knows I’m pissed at him. Where were you Gerard? Why didn’t you follow me? You said you wanted to talk to me, so where the hell were you?!” Frank shouted.
Gerard had closed his eyes in an attempt to block out his friends anger. He couldn’t hold the intense gaze that burned with fury. Frank didn’t get angry often, but when he did, boy did you know about it.
Keeping his head down and his eyes tightly closed, Gerard whispered, “I’m sorry. I thought. Oh hell, I don’t know what I thought. You seemed to be more angry at me than Bob, and when you left, I started to go after you, but he reached the door before me. I should’ve told him I’d go, but. I didn’t.” He lifted his head slowly, and looked Frank right in the eye, “I don’t want to argue with you, I hate it. But you’re different. If you’ve ever had a problem with me in the past, you’ve spoken to me about it. You’ve been off with me for weeks now, and you still haven’t talked to me. Please just tell me what’s up; I can’t stand it any longer. There's been so many times over the past few days when it's just been me and you, but it's awkward. It shouldn't be like that Frank; I thought we were best friends.”
It was Frank’s turn to close his eyes and hang his head as he whispered, “We were. We are.”
“Then what the fuck’s up with us?”
“I don’t know…”
“Don’t lie to me Frank. I hate liars,” Gerard spoke harshly.
“I know,” Frank said quietly, “But I’m not ready to tell you yet…”
Frank didn’t know what to expect when he said that. He thought Gerard would react like he always did; it was safe when he was predictable. But it seemed as though all the shouting and arguing had fucked with his usual nature. He scraped back his chair roughly and got to his feet.
“Fuck you. I’m trying here, and all you can give me is a pathetic, ‘I’m not ready to tell you’” He mimicked in a high voice, “Well go run to Bob and you can tell him about this.”
With that, Gerard snatched his sketch book from the counter and stormed off the bus, making sure to slam the door extra hard for added effect. Frank sighed heavily, and pulled his phone out of his pocket. The tap of his fingers against the keypad rang out into the empty bus.
I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. I don’t want us to fight anymore. I miss how things used to be. I miss -you-.
He didn’t press send.
Thank you for reading. Comments and criticism are appreciated.