Guns For Roses (Frerard)

Chapter 13

if you wanna read something that'll fuck you up real good, read "Once Upon A Dream" by vampirexchild. I read it like a year ago and bawled my damn eyes out. It's one of those fics that I'll scroll past and physically cower away with flashbacks of my emotional damage.

Trigger warning: Character has worsening mental/physical health. Vomiting.

You know what's totally wild? Companionship. I didn't know how much I had actually missed it until I had it again.

Frank and I met earlier that year, so we'd known each other for about eight or nine months at this point. Romantic-relationship wise it'd only been like six months, but we had been "living together" for all of it, so we knew each other personally really quickly. That used to freak me out, but I had finally started to like it. Frank simply changed everything. Like, even how I see the world, literally speaking.

Before I met him, I was the only one driving me around. I never had the time or thought to look around while driving, because I just didn't care to. But since I'd met him (and then was relieved of my license), and then was lugged halfway across the country in a passenger seat, I was able to actually look at everything. 

When there's just nothing for miles and all you see are the flat fields of grass and farm crops of some sort, with bushels and thickets of trees sprinkled here and there around the endless road, you get a really weird sense of tranquility. Especially alongside the loud white noise of the car engine and the tires flying over the road. It puts you in a strangely peaceful headspace.

But despite being peaceful, being in a car for several hours at a time just sucks. Yes, it's beautiful, but you can only stare at a hundred different fields for so many hours before starting to lose your fucking wits.

That was why Frank had us stop a lot. Especially after long rural expanses, we'd stop in random, little, almost nameless towns. As ugly and dirty as most of them were, it was still a cool experience.

And if there weren't any towns around, we still pulled over on the side of the road to, uh, kill time. If you know what I'm saying.

Ah, fuck it. You know what I mean. We had sex. A lot of sex. Backseat, front seat, on the hood, in the floorboard, sitting up in the passenger's side, sitting on the back trunk, anything you can think of. We were all over each other. I was horny as fuck all my life, but my sex drive was insane due to the drugs, and Frank was a fucking wild guy from the start, who seemed to not be able to get enough of me, for some reason.

We bickered like an old couple, picked on each other like little kids, and fucked like teenagers. Which, I understand may be a typical outline to a romantic relationship, but even still, we talked. Even more especially after the duel gut-spilling session we shared in our hotel room that one night.

There was a lot of bullshit that we went through together during our first year, and on that trip I felt closer to him than ever, but my brain started nagging at me the moment we hit the state line that I would very likely be leaving the state alone.

Still though, I didn't let my concerns become more than just thoughts. Hell, I had horrible thoughts almost at a constant anyways, so what's a few more? I lose more sleep at night, maybe, but I couldn't let it bother me. If this was going to be my last few days with him, I wasn't going to ruin it all by asking when we may separate.

I had been reading to him for about an hour, up until the point he got off the highway and entered a busy town. At first I figured we were making another one of our million stops, but when I looked up from our linked hands (because I was looking at his tattoos), I realized that we were in a neighborhood rather than a gas station's parking lot.