I sat on sixty-six inches of perfect. Though, others would probably refer to him as Frank Iero.
It was ironic—I, the tall one in the relationship wouldn't be expected to be sitting on the lap of my adorably small partner, but it didn't bother him, so it didn't bother me.
He took a short swig of the liquor he was drinking, throwing his head back as he downed the bitter substance. I could feel him swallow, my head pressed against his chest in an awkward snuggle. His chin rested on my matted black hair comfortably, his hands wrapped around me in a tight embrace.
It was nice, like this.
Two hella gay almost-adults cuddling during a rainy night, drinking and touching and talking. It was nice to love someone so affectionately, given my past relationships.
We'd been like that for a couple of hours, exchanging swigs as I drew little sketches and traced tattoos on his arms. His forearms were adorned with swirls of ink, random things he wanted me to draw on him.
"Gerard," he slurred, obviously drunk. He said it with a kind of tone that made it sound sober, though. A weird, but beautiful mixture with his raspy voice.
"Hm?" I smiled, chuckling as his arm moved slowly. Wisps of pen bordered the next 'tattoo' I was working on—a scorpion.
"It's been five hours. My legs are numb," he shook his knees as if to demonstrate their lack of feeling, but I didn't budge.
"Nah, you just want to get me off you. Well, newsflash Mr. Iero: I'm stubborn as hell," I said playfully. But I moved, anyway.
He grinned, standing as I helped him up. His legs wobbled under him, and his head lulled slightly. I guess he'd taken more shots than I did.
"I know that, Gee," he looked up at me for a moment before proceeding. "You're really cute, you know."
I scoffed. "And you're drunk. We should sleep, anyway."
And by that, I meant he should sleep. I should draw, or watch TV, or eat.
Plus, I wasn't tired, not much anyway.
He nodded, turning towards the door before stopping. He stood in the doorway for a moment, eyes focused on something.
I turned to look, only seeing Pansy, that guitar he'd saved up for since he was fourteen.
"No, no no," he reached a hand in front of me, moving slowly towards the stand.
"Let me play, then I sleep." He winked, and I felt a blush accompany a sheepish smile.
Frank never played in front of me.
So I guess it was a one time thing.
"You know what, go for it," I said, settling once again in his beanbag chair.
Frank grabbed the guitar off of his stand, humming quietly before taking a seat on the floor before me.
He strummed the strings a bit, whistling a couple of notes as he tuned. His eyes were fixed intensely on the guitar, and it almost seemed as if he didn't acknowledge my presence.
His fingers were slow, mouth tilted in a lopsided smile as he turned to me, eyes lost in a fog of haze.
"Have you played before, Gee?" He blinked slowly, looking back at the guitar. He then proceeded to hook it up to his amp.
Sure, I've played a bit—Ray let me pick the strings whenever I was over, but that was basically it.
I shook my head, muttering a small, awed, "No."
At the response, he froze, looking back up at me. Suddenly, in a quick motion too fast for a drunk Iero, he tackled me so that he sat on my chest, erupting in giggles as I laughed too.
He held his guitar, which was alarmingly close to my face. Then, in a mix of movement, we adjusted ourselves so that I was the one being sat on, and so that Frank was on top of me.
"Here, Way," he took my hands, gripping them tightly as he lay them over what I believed was a neck board.
"Frank," I chuckled, the liquor causing bursts of laughs. "What are you doing, sweetheart?"
He said nothing, smiling as he sat the guitar in his lap. He then took my other arm, wrapping it around him so that it touched the metal strings.
"Play for me, Gerard Arthur." He then slipped out of our embrace, sliding to the floor slowly as he turned to face me.
He looked like a little kid, grinning widely. It was like I was the teacher, and he the student, waiting eagerly for a lesson.
"Frank," I shifted a bit, holding the guitar carefully. "I don't know how to play."
He frowned briefly, face lighting up like he had an idea.
"I'll teach you!" He exclaimed, standing. His stance wavered a bit as he crawled behind the chair, wrapping his arms around me. His hair fell over my right shoulder, and he guided my hands softly onto each string.
On my left, I could feel his hands cover my own, strumming in a faint pattern.
"Strum a... C chord. Like," he arranges my fingers on the 2nd fret, splaying them about the board. He smiles a dopey grin, "this."
And, he strums.
He then plants a small kiss on my cheek, eyeing me patiently.
"You can do it, Way," he chirps. I only blush, speechless. What the hell was I supposed to do in this situation?
Finally, I strummed, picking the strings at an ugly tune. But Frank kept smiling.
"Keep going, Gee."
And I did.
I even sang, a bit.
"Mama just killed a man," I sang, screaming the lyrics loudly and off key. Frank erupted in giggles, nuzzling his head into the crook of my neck.
"Put a gun against his head, pull my trigger now he's dead!" He screamed.
"Mama, life had just begun!"
"But now I've gone and am actually gay," he slurred, and we both laughed so hard, it stung.
"Wrong lyrics, Iero."
"I'm drunk, Way—let me have my moments."
I nodded, barely choking down a laugh.
"Love you," he hummed.
I smiled, ruffling his hair.
"Love you too," I strummed the guitar again.
"Dork."
-
Ew this sucks
Oh well
Sorry for that weird ending?? Idk man I was bored
Bye!!
