murderer - frerard

[026]

honestly where is this story even going

I meant it. When I was with Gerard, I didn't think about the pain. Everything seemed to happen slowly, and I savoured every moment that I was with him. The good times with him seemed to overrule the bad; I'd almost forgotten the days he'd spent watching me silently, sketching me over and over again, never making eye contact. It didn't matter that he'd once wanted me gone, or dead, for that matter.

And just like that, we were kissing again, and Gerard's hands explored my body freely, his soft fingertips frigid against my skin. My teeth tugged at his lip, which seemed to be the only part of him that was never, and I mean never, cold. My mind went blank after that.

[]

I awoke with a jolt in my own bed, my legs freezing, and hey, why's my blanket on the floor? My head instinctively twitched toward the door when I heard footsteps, but it was only my mother, and I couldn't find any trace of the redheaded man anywhere.

"Morning," my mom said with a slightly faltering smile.

"Aren't you supposed to be at work?" I asked, a bit distracted, and more than a little annoyed that I couldn't go find Gerard like I'd originally intended to.

"No. I'm off today, thank God," she said with a dramatic wiping of her brow. "You got any plans for the day?"

"Yeah, actually," I replied monotonously, rolling (very carefully) out of my bed, which was still stripped of my covers.

"Good," Mom said, moving out of the doorway so I could shuffle past her sleepily. "You need to get out more, plus, if you're away, I can get ahead on the laundry and — oh, who am I kidding? I'm gonna get some sleep, more than anything."

I wasn't listening. I wiggled into an old tee and some sweats, patting my hair down — fuck, it was getting long again. My mom kept talking while she cleaned up my stitches, which seemed to have become a normal thing now. Finally, she let me slip my shoes on and head out the door with no real destination.

[]

I ended up in Ryan's basement, watching him as he sat in an old armchair, focused solely on tuning his acoustic. He looked positively adorable in a red plaid button-up under a black suede vest, a headband holding back his brunet curls and a look of pure fixation across his soft features. I could see easily why the kid sitting next to him was smiling while he watched Ryan, helping place his fingers on the right frets.

"I don't know how to do this, it's hard, I'm not used to it —" Ryan complained, his lip poking out in a semi-pout.

"Not an excuse," the other boy said in annoyance, taking Ryan's hand and lacing their fingers.

"They're so gay," the guy next to me, whose name I couldn't quite recall, said under his breath, a smirk playing on his full lips as he glanced at me. I think he expected me to chuckle, or at least show some sign of amusement.

"I'm gay," I said flatly, wishing I wasn't here at all, as would've much rathered to have been at Gerard's, my back pressed against the wall, his lips pressed against mine, his tongue slipping into my mouth —

"Oh," he said, scrunching his nose, and I wondered why I was here, why I had even left my house in the first place.

"God, Brent, you're such a bigot," said another boy as he walked by to take a seat at the drum set, tucking his faded pink hair under his hat. He looked up at me, "Frank, you play anything?"

"Guitar, mostly," I mumbled, my eyes averting back to Ryan and his friend as they resumed tuning the Fender.

"You should come play with us sometime," the drummer said with a warm smile, his dark eyes crinkling at the corners. "We're not that good, but..."

I nodded dryly, not giving a definite answer. I knew it would be a good outlet, something to channel my emotions into, but I couldn't be bothered to get off my lazy ass and leave my house. I'd rather sit on my couch, with Gerard towering over me —

I was thinking about Gerard too much. That wasn't healthy, I didn't think, so I tried to keep my mind off him as I listened to the guys in front of me strumming, banging, singing, but all to no avail. My mind always ended up right back where I'd started.

I had a good feeling that my mom would be well asleep by now. I could probably sneak back by the house and into Gerard's yard without being noticed; it had been an hour or so since I'd left.

"I think I'm gonna head out," I informed everyone, standing and waving slightly.

"Uh, okay. Text me if you wanna come over," Ryan said with an awkward smile as his fingers subconsciously wound around the other boy's, and his eyes dropped quickly. I just gave a small "uh-huh" and ducked out of the house, hoping his mom wasn't stirring.

I walked down the street quietly, focused solely on kicking a particular rock all the way from Ryan's house to Gerard's. I got bored of it quickly though and left it half a mile from Ryan's street, the part of my brain containing thoughts Gerard and his gorgeous self coming alive.

As I reached his drive, I looked up to notice the blinds flicking back into place as if someone had been peering through them at me.

The door opened in front of me before I could even reach it, revealing Gerard, nothing but a trace of a smile playing on his lips. "Hey," he greeted me, opening the heavy wooden door wider so I could step past him. His hand brushed my ass, causing warmth to flush my cheeks.

"Hey yourself," I said, looking up at him, not expecting him to plant a light kiss upon my lips in greeting. I was slightly confused, but returned the favour quickly. "What happened yesterday — I mean, after we..." Kissed. Made out. Practically fucked. Whichever term describes the situation best.

"Huh?" Gerard's fingers grazed my thigh as he searched for my own hand, pulling me toward the couch. Fuck, the couch —

"Remember?" My lips crashed against his as I tugged him down onto the couch with me. "We did this, a lot."

"I don't think so," Gerard replied between sloppy kisses. "I've not kissed you for so long, fuck, I missed your lips."

I fisted his hair, tilting his head as I kissed him hungrily. "It was only yesterday, though," I giggled, my hands running down his slender body.

"Frank, what're you on about?" He pulled back quickly. "Where've you even been? It's been almost a week since you've been over — remember?"

No, I didn't quite remember.