Love Vigilantes (Frerard) •AU•

Chapter Ten

Frank P.O.V

"So, he asked you over, and you came here?" Mary asked, playfully punching me in the shoulder. She was right, what was I thinking? I had a crush on him, and had the chance to spend some time with him- drinking. I sighed, covering my face with my hands. Mary chuckled, patting my back in a gentle and motherly way. "It's okay Frankie, it's only eight o'clock. I'm sure he won't mind." She reassured me, but I couldn't help feeling that she was wrong- although she never was.

"What if he wants something from me, and I don't want to do that." I said, my mind automatically trying to fabricate some sort of scenario that would make me feel uncomfortable. Mary sighed, rolling her eyes, definitely fed up of me being so nervous.

"I'm sure he's not going to throw himself at you. From what you've told me, he seems like a gentleman," she said, rubbing my arm to try and restore a sense of calm, "and, he clearly has money." She joked, a weak smile breaking across my face. She was right, I had nothing to worry about.
After taking five or so minutes to be coaxed to my car, I watched as Mary waddled back into the house. She was edging closer and closer to her due date, her tiny frame struggling more and more as the seconds slowly ticked by. I just hoped that the birth of the little thing would bring much more happiness into her life. I hoped that she could just leave and maybe even find the father of her baby; who was closer than I thought.

She made a gesture as if to say 'get going', so I did as I was told and slowly drove away. Panicking more and more as I neared the motel. My procrastination had added at least an hour into my journey, the prospect of being judged and outed was not my idea of fun. But, I sucked it up, slamming the car door shut, shivering a little. I contemplated on whether to return to my room to shiver under the old covers. I shook the thought from my head, telling myself over and over that I was being ridiculous.
Eyes scanning the metal door numbers for '204', my nerves hit me. I wished that I would've had a drink before I came here. Again, the contemplation to run to my room and drink two or three beers before actually knocking seemed appealing. Too appealing in fact.

I sighed, balling a fist, loudly knocking on the door. The force that I had used was far too much, my knuckles now stinging and a little red. I put my hand to my mouth, listening for any signs of life. About to admit defeat and turn away, much to my own disappointment, I heard movement from behind the door. It opened, to reveal a sleepy and messy-haired individual.

"I'm sorry, do you want me to leave?" I asked quickly, feeling terrifically awkward. He was standing in front of me in just his boxer shorts; looking incredibly attractive. He opened his mouth to speak, but a yawn came out instead.

"Of course not, I'm kind of glad that you came here instead of standing me up." He said, with another yawn. I managed an awkward smile, before being welcomed inside. His room was incredibly neat, a lot better than my own. The only things that were out of place were a pile of clothes on the floor and tiny balls of paper with old ideas on. "Sorry about the mess, by the way." He added, my brow furrowing into a frown.

"What mess?" I asked with a laugh, he answered by pointing to the pile of clothes, and the little pieces of paper.

"The clothes are because I went for a walk an hour or so before you got here, and the balls of paper are because I'm a writer and I hate what I write." He shrugged, trying to kick them underneath his desk. I had a sudden urge to grab one when he wasn't looking. I'm sure he was underestimating his work- most writers do.

"Oh you're a writer, so that means your immaculate suits and fancy car all come down to how much money you get from royalties?" I asked, knowing that I was probably making assumptions. Probably the wrong ones at that.

"Oh god no, people rarely know that the writing is by me- I tend to slip it onto piles at my work with the other ones waiting to be edited, usually under a pseudonym." He shrugged, brushing past me briefly to grab the half-gone bottle of whiskey.
"I uh, drank some before." He said, knowing that I had made the point in my head that half of it was gone. I wasn't judging him, if I was him I would've downed the entire bottle and apologised for it as he showed up at my door.

"It's ok." I said quietly, hoping that he didn't hear. I couldn't help watching him, the fact that he had hardly any clothes on wasn't helping me either. That was just putting more thoughts in my head, thoughts that I definitely didn't want anybody to be able to read.

"You still want some, right?" He asked, back to me. I nodded my head, before realising that no noise was coming out of my mouth. He turned to face me, smile across his face, eyes squinting in the dim light of the old motel room. At that point, no noise could come from my mouth.
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Song Of The Chapter- Elephant by Tame Impala

A.N
Anything with the name 'Impala' automatically reminds me of Supernatural- I'm such a saddo -_- anyway, I apologise for not updating as much- I've had a very very hectic past month!! But, as the Christmas season slowly rolls around I know that I'll have a gajillion more hours to dedicate to writing XD

Enough of me going on, don't forget to comment and vote ;)