Lie To Me (Frerard)

23: Bert McCracken Gets Thrown Into A Wall

Frank had done this at least a million times in his life, but never ever did it seem to have any kind of hope of ever getting easier.

He'd call his alarm clock his arch nemesis, or something, and his alarmed cock: a victim of it and morning fucking wood.

At least his mum didn't find it necessary to come into his bedroom and wake him up personally anymore, because well, the older he got, the more awkward it was, and Frank was mainly talking about his dick here.

Waking up was hell, and today was no exception, and it took Frank at least ten minutes to even gather the motivation to open his eyelids. Of course God couldn't take enough pity upon him as to just let him fall back to sleep and continue to sleep through the rest of hell, and perhaps even the rest of his life.

He did eventually get out of bed, and as expected, he did absolutely hate it: his room was too cold, but that hoodie on the floor was entirely too far away, and Frank was probably going to cause a gas leak if he even tried to turn up the heating. Fucking hell, the window was even closed, and Frank was beginning to suspect that there were little goblins sat in the corner of his bedroom with no purpose to their existence other than to blow icy cold air at a poor teenage boy every morning.

That was not the kind of blowing Frank was interested in, to say the least. And on that train of thought, Frank texted Gerard: a simple good morning and a kiss or something, because it was fucking cute and he knew it'd make Gerard blush like the fucking dork they were.

And at some point between texting Gerard and making his way downstairs, Frank had gotten dressed, and had indeed eventually moved enough to reach the hoodie on the floor, which was a wonderful kind of progress that he should be very proud of, of course.

Mrs Iero had been awake more than twice as long as Frank had, and she offered her son a smile as he made his way downstairs and into the kitchen. "Morning, Frankie. You get enough beauty sleep?"

He rolled his eyes at his mother, because Frank did not need beauty sleep, being beautiful as fuck already, as everyone knew, and he could easily convince Gerard into agreeing with him about: it was kind of trivial and ridiculous, but he found himself nodding at his mother regardless: just to make her happy or something, because Frank was a good son, or something.

He made his way out of the house five minutes later with a piece of toast only half its way down his throat.

And only now had Gerard actually texted Frank back: something cute that made very little sense and served more to make Frank smile than anything else.

Frank texted them back with something equally as sappy, and a series of stupid heart emojis that he'd be painfully embarrassed to ever admit to the use of, but whatever, it was Gerard, and with Gerard, everything was different.

Frank reckoned it was a good kind of different, though, and his head was bombarded with the thoughts of a good kind of different as he made his way to school, and almost far too eagerly too, because maybe he was just a little too eager to see Gerard again, because maybe he loved them far more than he'd ever care to admit.

Frank Iero wasn't a sappy romantic, but he was. It was different: the good kind of different, and Frank liked it as much as he liked Gerard, and well, he was making an effort to get to school on time to see them here, so you could say that Frank liked Gerard an awful lot.

Their relationship wasn't 'official', but it was highly speculated throughout the various rumours and gossip that ran rampant through the school, and that was nothing more than a repercussion of Frank's rather relaxed efforts to hide the way he looked at Gerard every time they walked past, or the way he actually hung out with the guy, or the way they disappeared to go to the toilets together for like twenty minutes, but they were just rumours, and rumours were nothing more than easy to deny.