Bad Idea! ✐ FRERARD

✩ QUITTING COLD TURKEY ✩

i tried to challenge myself in this chapter but... i dunno man. i tried my best okay shskg

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       "FRANK?" GERARD ANSWERED the phone, his voice heavy with sleep.

"I need you to take me to a gun range." Frank said quickly.

And... maybe in retrospect, that hadn't been the brightest of ideas on Frank's end. But he had had another dream.

A bad one.

A horrifying one that had nearly made the neighbours call an ambulance on his behalf.

The dream had ended with a gun though, like the majority of them, so at four in the morning he had come to the conclusion that hoping his fears would just magically disappear was immature. He had to take initiative.

And he knew that Bob wouldn't approve, and neither would practically any other cop he knew, so he went with the best option. Gerard. He was the only one who had success calming him down during one of his moments without using force, although Frank didn't want to discredit Bob, it was just that he was a lot more physical and sometimes Frank didn't want to be touched.

"Um," Gerard was quiet for a moment, "fucking, pardon?"

"I need you to drive me to the closest gun range." Frank repeated, hoping that maybe if he recited it enough his mind would become immune to his own doubt.

"Frank, that's... I don't think that's where you need to be right now." Gerard said quietly, but Frank just laughed at that.

"You're not my therapist, Gerard. Either you drive me or I call an Uber."

There was silence on the other line before Gerard let out a soft breath into the microphone, "Alright. I'll drive you. But I'm coming in with you."

"Do you even know how to use a gun?"

"Do you even know what fucking time it is?" Gerard retorted, "If I'm driving you to a gun range at four AM I'm gonna at least make sure you don't break your ass anymore than you already have."

Frank suppressed a small smile as he instead scoffed, "I think you just want to learn how to shoot a gun."

"You're so lucky this is over the phone or I'd actually beat you with your own wheelchair." Gerard muttered.

That was when Gerard hung up, making Frank let out a shallow breath. He was really doing this. He was really going to shoot a gun again.

✩ ✩

When Frank quietly opened the door for Gerard, he was met with a cute sight. Cute in the sense where he couldn't really tell if it was his severe panic or his drowsy brain talking. But cute nonetheless.

It was Gerard, of course, and he was wearing baggy pyjamas similar to the ones he had worn to the hospital- his hair was just as unruly. And from under his unkempt hair peeked eyes that were somehow both the colours of hazel and honey, and that shone like sunlight on polished stone.

Frank didn't even know what was so special about what he was wearing, or even what was so special about Gerard in general, but to Frank, he looked absolutely breathtaking.

Though before he could really comment on it or think more of it, Gerard was speaking.

"You're on crutches now?" Gerard asked, and Frank nodded proudly.