kik!frerard

kik!42!extra

after what had happened, gerard said he'd drive me back, but to his house. which i didn't feel like going to, but i subsided with it anyway. the moment i sat down in the nice leather seats of his car, i didn't feel like talking. i didn't even look at him, but he did send glances everytime i sniffled. the more tears i shed, the more it felt like my nose was being blocked up and making is harder to combust my emotions.

"Frankie," he said, as he paused the car for a stop light. my worst enemy. stop lights were like a green light for ice breakers. i didn't want our friendship to start all over, where we had to depend on ice breakers and act awkward about who was going to sleep on the couch. like a bunch of beginner friendships. but the circumstances and where we last left off make this moment pretty crucial.

i shouldve seen it coming, i mean -it's been about 10 minutes into the ride. i was uncomfortable, it was cold, and now Gerard wants to talk. obviously.

"mhm," i mumbled, tightly closing my eyes, thinking that would stop their coherent fucking leaking already. why can't i stop crying? i'm a 28 year old man, but i feel like i'm 18 again. angsty, horny.. and stupid.

"i know you don't want to talk right now, and.." oh god, here goes everything. he'll apologize, maybe, but he'll tell me we need to have 'the talk'. but i don't want to, and that just makes me start to cry more. fuck, i hate me. i curl my arms around my chest and bend over a little, letting my hair block the side of my face. "frank, please, just.. ugh, we're almost there, okay?" he sputters, frantically pressing on the gas because the light is now green.

a red light never lasts as long as you want or need it to. it's the one time you get a pause in everything. but as soon as it turns green again, you're forced to continue.

i won't mention he's a bit of a reckless driver, and my head hit the glove box when he sped up. because i'm not a dick.

he doesn't say anything else, so i stay hunched over, resting my head on my knee and making small whimpers. i don't look up at him, but i watch his hand as he shifts gears; already it seems, we're parked.

i watch as he gets out, a few seconds pass bye but i'm reassured when he opens my car door.

"frank, we're here."

i hear him, but i don't move. i gulp and pull my sleeves up futher, the cold air biting at my open skin.

he grunts and walks away, on the other side of the car. he opens his door and bends down, looking at me. but i don't look back at him. he puts his key back into his car, and turns the air on, which luckily one of the vents happens to be right beside my face. cold air spurts at the highest volume and i jolt up in a whine. he slams his car door, walking back over to mine. i quickly turn my back to him, shielding my face from the cold vents. what kind of a fucking asshole-

"frank, stop. you're acting like a child."

"i don't wanna talk," i murmur, huddling into his seat.

"what will make you come inside?" he bickers, and suddenly my mind sparks.

"you can carry me," i tell him.

"are you fucking serious?" he asks, but makes a small chuckle at me.

"..yes," i reply, turning around and facing him, but holding out my arms.

he groans and tightly wraps his arms around me, hoisting me up and i quickly wrap my legs around him. i hold onto him tightly, resting my head on his shoulder. he carried me down the path to his small house, groaning when he had to shut the door with his foot or turn on the light.

he sat me down on the couch, and i peered around at his small home. there was an open kitchen and the living space we were in seemed to look and have the same accessories as any living space. but of a single person. which i wanted to mention further on since he seemed so dead set to have 'the talk'.

"okay, you little baby," he panted, small breathes coming out and moving fallen pieces of his hair around. "you promised we'd talk now."

"i didn't promise to talk," i mumbled, residing my shoes and resting my head on his couch.

he sighed and looked at me, twitching his lips as if he were trying to smile.

"Gerard, i'm sorry," i said. "i can't apologize enough, i just- i really am sorry. even if you do forgive or believe me, i'll never stop saying it." i felt tears roll down my cheeks slowly and some were starting to soak the spot on his couch.

"don't cry, frank-" he said, voice breaking a little as he reached forward and wiped away my tears but i ignored him. he wasnt- he wasn't listening. he wasn't paying attention. i'm not just upset, i'm fucking apologizing, does he not see that?

"stop," i whispered softly, standing up and looking away from him, at the light brown shades covering his windows and along making the room have an added soft moon color next to the dim lamp lighting. but i looked back at him, taking a big breathe. "i was a real fucking dickhead back then, okay? don't even try to tell me that i was a good person. because i was hurt and i took it out on you -my anger, sadness, all this pitiful shit in my life, and you didn't deserve that. i don't even want to be here, because i am continuing to ruin your life. if you're so happy, why would you want to see me? you have friends, you're making art.. you're-.. and you're still so beautiful. what am i? fucking garbage, gerard.. i don't even have any friends because im still a fucking asshole, i smoke, i look like trash. god, why.. why do you like me? i don't even like myself, i just want to die- i'm so.. i'm so small and weak, gee. i'm sorry."

he stared at me, eyebrows furrowed together and perfect shadows splayed across his most pointed features. i feared he'd yell at me, stand up and point me down to feel smaller than i already felt around him. tell me i was overreacting or some stupid shit like that.

"no, frank, i missed you. i could never stay angry at you, i forgave you a long time ago. it's okay to still feel bad, but.. it just doesn't matter to me anymore," he replied, looking down at me. "you were all i had.. and i realised you were just too broken and i needed.. a break. i regret not talking to you for so long, but i was too nervous. you have to understand." i didn't look up. i sniffled realising i had been crying during the whole thing -once again.

he ran a hand through my hair and gently tugged on it, grabbing my chin and making me look at him. i gasped when i saw the tears brimming his eyes. of both of us, i'm the most sorry, he doesn't even have to apologize. why is he crying?

"gerard.." i mumbled, wiping away his tears with my thumbs.

"do you understand?"

"i do."

"i missed you, frankie." he wrapped his arms around me, holding me and burying me in his chest. it's the most comforting and reassuring feeling i've had in ten years. "don't ever say those things, please." he squeezed me tightly, crying and cradling my head like you would if you were holding a baby. gentle, and being careful not to break it's delicate skull.

"i missed you, too."

i buried my face into his neck, letting my tears hopefully finally dry and for gerard to never leave me. everything was fine, i had completely over-reacted and spilled my old teenage regrets on the floor. but at least they were out, instead of constantly bugging my mind.

Gerard was an official artist, he wrote a comic and sold his art. but he didn't have a lot of money to have a bigger house. i supposed that all we really needed to do, was tell each other how we felt, since we'd been bundling all that trash inside for ten years. i felt better as well, especially with gerard now. hopefully i would get to feel this way for a long time.

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a/n: sigh, kinda don't like this, but ayy if you all like it, thats cool, thanks.

sad to say this is the end to the extras or.. maybe not ??

-xo,gee