Fic: Almost
almost part two of three. (part one.)
frank/bob
1,611 words
do not own
whisperingtome - you never cease to amaze me.
written for 100_situations. prompt 067: confused
Frank paced the hallway outside the dressing room purposefully. He’d been there about thirty minutes and was showing no signs of slowing down or giving up. Voices inside trickled out from under the door in fits and starts, but there was no dialogue that he could fix together to make sense of what they were saying. Not that it mattered much anyway; it wasn’t this conversation he was fixating on.
Another pointless five minutes ticked by; Frank noted it by the loud ticking of the wall clock behind him. He ran a hand through his hair, he liked the feeling of it being longer. He preferred the feeling of Bob’s fingers tangled up in it, hot breath on his face and soft lips against his. In more surreal moments Frank wondered whether Bob used lip balm, and where he kept it if he did, so that Frank could find it and rip the shit out of him for it. You know, after having used some himself.
Frank was lost in thought again by the time another seven minutes had passed by, so he barely noticed when the dressing room door swung open, followed by Gerard repeating, “Thank you so much,” over and over in amongst the flurry of a hug and some more laughter.
Whoever was in the dressing room with Gerard - Frank presumed it was one of those comic book guys, because Gerard had not stopped going on about some artist or another since they arrived in the city - passed by him in a hurried motion of buttoning a coat and pulling a scarf on tightly.
“Frank?”
Gerard’s voice brought him from his daydreaming and he palmed his eyes roughly with his hand before managing a meek, ‘Hey.’ He couldn’t quite understand why he was so nervous about this.
Gerard stepped back into the room, no words to usher Frank after him, just assumption. That’s what Frank liked. He liked their easy friendship; no questions that needed answers, no action forged from jealousy or revenge and no expectations. No expectations. No expectations noexpectations noexpectationsnoexpectations. Frank let the words run together in his head while he sat awkwardly on the edge of the small wooden table that housed their sidekicks, laptops, magazines and books, amongst other things.
Cans of soda littered the room, along with empty cigarette packets. Frank smiled because Gerard was meant to be giving up, they were meant to be giving up together, but he knew before he even flicked his eyes up to look at Gerard that the next question would prove contrary to their resolution.
“Want a smoke?”
Frank needed little persuasion, he let his fingers tease one from the packet and placed it between his lips. He smiled inwardly as he stood up to fish for a lighter in his pocket. He couldn’t get enough of the familiarity so far away from home.
“Gotcha,” he said triumphantly, though it came out more of a croak - he hadn’t used his voice for hours.
Bob, Mikey and Ray had been out all day, exploring London, and by the sounds of a rushed phone call from Bob earlier they were having a great time. They were in a huge record shop apparently, ‘Like, the biggest you’ve ever seen, man. And there’s this part downstairs where you can play fucking videogames, like hundreds of them. On huge screens.” Frank had probably answered a little unenthusiastically in the face of Bob’s excitement, but he had other things on his mind. It didn’t seem to matter. They hung up the phone and Frank could picture the three of them, wandering around like kids with dazed looks in their eyes, as though Christmas had come early. It might even take Mikey’s mind away from his homesickness for a couple of hours.
Frank had declined the offer of joining them. Waves of nausea were hitting him every few minutes and he didn’t feel up to going out - he had something more important to do.
He’d said goodbye to Bob, what, eight hours ago? A brief brush of lips and a promise of something nice brought back from the city was how they’d left it, and Frank had been worrying ever since. Pondering how best to execute the plan slowly forming in his mind.
He knew Gerard wouldn’t go into the city either, not with the show tonight and the prospect of a meeting with that artist, whoever he was. Luck was on Frank’s side for once.
The atmosphere in the room should have been relaxed. Band mates, best friends, it all should have been amicable and laid-back but Frank knew he was giving off tense vibes. It was only a matter of time before Gerard picked up on them.
“What’s up, man?” Right on cue, Frank thought. It reassured him immeasurably.
Gerard sank back into the bright red sofa gracing the small room, it was oversized but comfortable and Gerard looked like it fitted him perfectly, like he should have been sitting there all his life, with his ruffled hair and slightly tired eyes. He took a drag of his cigarette and put his free hand on the ankle resting on his right knee, where he had crossed his legs.
“I just wanted to talk to you about something,” Frank said, standing up and moving over to the couch too. He wanted that familiarity as close to him as possible, he needed to feel at ease.
“Shoot.” Gerard turned a little so his body faced Frank, fully open. This was what it meant to be friends, this was closeness.
“I wanted to let you know. Bob. Bob and I. We’re…well we’re kind of…” Frank trailed off, not quite sure how to finish the sentence. Seeing each other? That sounded corny, and besides, they saw each other everyday, so what was new there? Having a relationship? Getting it on? None of it sounded right in Frank’s head so he was grateful for Gerard’s interruption of his thoughts.
“You love each other,” Gerard said, with a straight-lipped expression and understanding in his hazel eyes. He wasn’t laughing. He wasn’t mocking them. He wasn’t shocked or angry or upset, he was just being a friend.
Frank had never thought about it in such plain terms before, but yeah, he guessed Gerard was right. “I do love him.”
Gerard’s face came alive, illuminated by a huge smile, and he pulled Frank into a strong embrace. Relief flooded Frank’s body and he felt a little stupid for having worried so much; it was all okay. It was all okay.
---
The door still stood open a crack where Frank had forgotten to close it in his dazed state of worry. Bob stood peering through, but hidden for the most part by the door frame, not that either man would have noticed him anyway.
He couldn’t hear what they were saying, his ears were filled with angry buzzing anyway, but he didn’t think he needed to. He watched as Frank leant in for that hug, fully and without restriction, he waited and watched and heard that noisy ticking clock - why was it so damn loud? - counting up the minutes that it lasted. He saw them break apart finally and Gerard’s thumb come up to stroke under Frank’s eyelid - this all felt too intimate to be watching but it was like a car crash that he just couldn’t tear his eyes from, however much it hurt.
He took in Frank’s hand on the curve where Gerard’s shoulder met his neck, and he breathed in that second hug. They held each other tightly and Bob dropped the comic he had found for Frank in Covent Garden. He realised that he wasn’t breathing - why did Frank always have that effect on him? - and didn’t dare start now for fear of revealing himself. Instead, he took one last look through misguided eyes at the scene inside the dressing room before walking away, stepping on the comic as he did so.
---
Gerard brushed away a stray eyelash that had landed on the curve of Frank’s cheek and smiled once more.
“Thank you for telling me.” His eyes were earnest and Frank was glad he’d plucked up the courage to do it, but now wasn’t the time to get too sentimental.
“You’re my best friend, asshole, of course I told you. Now don’t go getting all girly on me.” He moved his hand to where Gerard’s shoulder and neck met in a smooth curve and pulled his in for another hug, this one a little more manly, the two of them squeezing tight, trying to show their masculinity, but both knowing it was a clever ruse to show how much they meant to each other.
Frank, so involved in this moment of complete amity, didn’t notice Bob stood a little to the right of the doorway. Almost, but not quite, out of view. And Frank didn’t see those tears that pricked Bob’s eyes, threatening to fall at any moment. He didn’t watch Bob blink them back fiercely because he would not let himself cry over Frank fucking Iero, it wasn’t even an option.
Frank couldn’t see the misunderstanding flashing in Bob’s eyes as he watched the two of them embrace in what, from the outside, could have looked more than friendly. So Frank wasn’t able to stop Bob walking away, hurt and angry and full of shame for having let Frank in so easily only to be hurt by him. Because Frank was too caught up in the relief and joy of having told someone he was in love. And it could have been called irony, if there weren’t so many feelings involved.
---
part three is here!
frank/bob
1,611 words
do not own
whisperingtome - you never cease to amaze me.
written for 100_situations. prompt 067: confused
Frank paced the hallway outside the dressing room purposefully. He’d been there about thirty minutes and was showing no signs of slowing down or giving up. Voices inside trickled out from under the door in fits and starts, but there was no dialogue that he could fix together to make sense of what they were saying. Not that it mattered much anyway; it wasn’t this conversation he was fixating on.
Another pointless five minutes ticked by; Frank noted it by the loud ticking of the wall clock behind him. He ran a hand through his hair, he liked the feeling of it being longer. He preferred the feeling of Bob’s fingers tangled up in it, hot breath on his face and soft lips against his. In more surreal moments Frank wondered whether Bob used lip balm, and where he kept it if he did, so that Frank could find it and rip the shit out of him for it. You know, after having used some himself.
Frank was lost in thought again by the time another seven minutes had passed by, so he barely noticed when the dressing room door swung open, followed by Gerard repeating, “Thank you so much,” over and over in amongst the flurry of a hug and some more laughter.
Whoever was in the dressing room with Gerard - Frank presumed it was one of those comic book guys, because Gerard had not stopped going on about some artist or another since they arrived in the city - passed by him in a hurried motion of buttoning a coat and pulling a scarf on tightly.
“Frank?”
Gerard’s voice brought him from his daydreaming and he palmed his eyes roughly with his hand before managing a meek, ‘Hey.’ He couldn’t quite understand why he was so nervous about this.
Gerard stepped back into the room, no words to usher Frank after him, just assumption. That’s what Frank liked. He liked their easy friendship; no questions that needed answers, no action forged from jealousy or revenge and no expectations. No expectations. No expectations noexpectations noexpectationsnoexpectations. Frank let the words run together in his head while he sat awkwardly on the edge of the small wooden table that housed their sidekicks, laptops, magazines and books, amongst other things.
Cans of soda littered the room, along with empty cigarette packets. Frank smiled because Gerard was meant to be giving up, they were meant to be giving up together, but he knew before he even flicked his eyes up to look at Gerard that the next question would prove contrary to their resolution.
“Want a smoke?”
Frank needed little persuasion, he let his fingers tease one from the packet and placed it between his lips. He smiled inwardly as he stood up to fish for a lighter in his pocket. He couldn’t get enough of the familiarity so far away from home.
“Gotcha,” he said triumphantly, though it came out more of a croak - he hadn’t used his voice for hours.
Bob, Mikey and Ray had been out all day, exploring London, and by the sounds of a rushed phone call from Bob earlier they were having a great time. They were in a huge record shop apparently, ‘Like, the biggest you’ve ever seen, man. And there’s this part downstairs where you can play fucking videogames, like hundreds of them. On huge screens.” Frank had probably answered a little unenthusiastically in the face of Bob’s excitement, but he had other things on his mind. It didn’t seem to matter. They hung up the phone and Frank could picture the three of them, wandering around like kids with dazed looks in their eyes, as though Christmas had come early. It might even take Mikey’s mind away from his homesickness for a couple of hours.
Frank had declined the offer of joining them. Waves of nausea were hitting him every few minutes and he didn’t feel up to going out - he had something more important to do.
He’d said goodbye to Bob, what, eight hours ago? A brief brush of lips and a promise of something nice brought back from the city was how they’d left it, and Frank had been worrying ever since. Pondering how best to execute the plan slowly forming in his mind.
He knew Gerard wouldn’t go into the city either, not with the show tonight and the prospect of a meeting with that artist, whoever he was. Luck was on Frank’s side for once.
The atmosphere in the room should have been relaxed. Band mates, best friends, it all should have been amicable and laid-back but Frank knew he was giving off tense vibes. It was only a matter of time before Gerard picked up on them.
“What’s up, man?” Right on cue, Frank thought. It reassured him immeasurably.
Gerard sank back into the bright red sofa gracing the small room, it was oversized but comfortable and Gerard looked like it fitted him perfectly, like he should have been sitting there all his life, with his ruffled hair and slightly tired eyes. He took a drag of his cigarette and put his free hand on the ankle resting on his right knee, where he had crossed his legs.
“I just wanted to talk to you about something,” Frank said, standing up and moving over to the couch too. He wanted that familiarity as close to him as possible, he needed to feel at ease.
“Shoot.” Gerard turned a little so his body faced Frank, fully open. This was what it meant to be friends, this was closeness.
“I wanted to let you know. Bob. Bob and I. We’re…well we’re kind of…” Frank trailed off, not quite sure how to finish the sentence. Seeing each other? That sounded corny, and besides, they saw each other everyday, so what was new there? Having a relationship? Getting it on? None of it sounded right in Frank’s head so he was grateful for Gerard’s interruption of his thoughts.
“You love each other,” Gerard said, with a straight-lipped expression and understanding in his hazel eyes. He wasn’t laughing. He wasn’t mocking them. He wasn’t shocked or angry or upset, he was just being a friend.
Frank had never thought about it in such plain terms before, but yeah, he guessed Gerard was right. “I do love him.”
Gerard’s face came alive, illuminated by a huge smile, and he pulled Frank into a strong embrace. Relief flooded Frank’s body and he felt a little stupid for having worried so much; it was all okay. It was all okay.
---
The door still stood open a crack where Frank had forgotten to close it in his dazed state of worry. Bob stood peering through, but hidden for the most part by the door frame, not that either man would have noticed him anyway.
He couldn’t hear what they were saying, his ears were filled with angry buzzing anyway, but he didn’t think he needed to. He watched as Frank leant in for that hug, fully and without restriction, he waited and watched and heard that noisy ticking clock - why was it so damn loud? - counting up the minutes that it lasted. He saw them break apart finally and Gerard’s thumb come up to stroke under Frank’s eyelid - this all felt too intimate to be watching but it was like a car crash that he just couldn’t tear his eyes from, however much it hurt.
He took in Frank’s hand on the curve where Gerard’s shoulder met his neck, and he breathed in that second hug. They held each other tightly and Bob dropped the comic he had found for Frank in Covent Garden. He realised that he wasn’t breathing - why did Frank always have that effect on him? - and didn’t dare start now for fear of revealing himself. Instead, he took one last look through misguided eyes at the scene inside the dressing room before walking away, stepping on the comic as he did so.
---
Gerard brushed away a stray eyelash that had landed on the curve of Frank’s cheek and smiled once more.
“Thank you for telling me.” His eyes were earnest and Frank was glad he’d plucked up the courage to do it, but now wasn’t the time to get too sentimental.
“You’re my best friend, asshole, of course I told you. Now don’t go getting all girly on me.” He moved his hand to where Gerard’s shoulder and neck met in a smooth curve and pulled his in for another hug, this one a little more manly, the two of them squeezing tight, trying to show their masculinity, but both knowing it was a clever ruse to show how much they meant to each other.
Frank, so involved in this moment of complete amity, didn’t notice Bob stood a little to the right of the doorway. Almost, but not quite, out of view. And Frank didn’t see those tears that pricked Bob’s eyes, threatening to fall at any moment. He didn’t watch Bob blink them back fiercely because he would not let himself cry over Frank fucking Iero, it wasn’t even an option.
Frank couldn’t see the misunderstanding flashing in Bob’s eyes as he watched the two of them embrace in what, from the outside, could have looked more than friendly. So Frank wasn’t able to stop Bob walking away, hurt and angry and full of shame for having let Frank in so easily only to be hurt by him. Because Frank was too caught up in the relief and joy of having told someone he was in love. And it could have been called irony, if there weren’t so many feelings involved.
---
part three is here!