Outline Us [1/1]
Outline Us [1/1] by all_tattooed
Frank/Gerard [PG-13 - Fluff]
RPS. Don't know. Don't own. No harm intended.
~1390 words
Summary: Gerard kind of forgets that he's not going to live forever, because somehow, that's the way it makes him feel.
Thanks to skelterellax for beta'ing. xo
Con-Crit welcome. Comments are nice.
“Do you think there’s two people out there just like us?” Frank asks, and his voice sounds a little lost as it hits Gerard’s ears and rolls around like empty letters in his head, bouncing all hushed and sugary because Frank has eaten almost an entire tub of cookie dough ice-cream tonight and Gerard thinks maybe it’s stuck somewhere in his throat.
His next breath is heavy and he can feel his stomach sinking in, almost touching his spine, as he stares up at the clouds, smiling at how they swirl like smoke and if he lifts his hand and twirls his finger, it looks like they’re moving from his touch. It isn’t until the slight knock of Frank’s shoe against his own makes his toes tingle and sends the message to his brain that he was supposed to answer his friend’s question, not just listen to it.
“I don’t know,” He says, because he really doesn’t, but he doubt’s it very much. “I doubt it.”
He thinks maybe he can feel Frank shift beside him, but still, he isn’t sure because sometimes staring at the night sky for so long can affect sensing the force of gravity, or not sensing it, because it’s so significant that it becomes insignificant which makes it difficult to be certain it’s really there. But then the back of his hand feels a little warmer than it was only moments ago, and his eyes shift from the stars to beside himself where he finds Frank’s wrist pressed against his skin, and if he bends his index finger just a little to right it would hook with Frank’s own, but he doesn’t because he thinks maybe he really shouldn’t.
“I think it’s impossible,” Frank then tells him, and Gerard has to instantly agree to himself because of course it’s impossible. Now that Frank has said it, Gerard realises it is in fact so impossible that there is absolutely no way to put it, so he doesn’t even try because Frank probably already knows it anyway, which was why his statement had been so blatant, yet unavoidably weak.
They’re silent for a while, or a lot longer than that, Gerard doesn’t really know. Time always seems non-existent whenever he’s up on the roof, and when Frank’s there with him, Gerard kind of forgets that he’s not going to live forever because somehow, that’s the way it makes him feel. Frank shifts again and Gerard shoves his hands deep into the pockets of his pants, pressing his elbows hard against the terracotta tiles underneath him because he’s fallen down before, thanks to his friend’s uneasy movements, and the sound of his bone snapping had made him throw up.
Frank’s head comes to rest softly just below Gerard’s collarbone, and Gerard can smell the faint remnants of his shampoo and maybe even his bed sheets, and he reluctantly wishes he could smell exactly the same because it would mean he has to sleep in Frank’s bed and use his toiletries more often than he already does. Time starts to tick by again. The only sounds surrounding them are the rustling of leaves from the big old oak tree in the back yard, the occasional crunch of car tyres rolling over the gravel road, and their breaths ...in and out, and in ...and out, and over, and over again.
“I love how you smell, Gee,” Frank then says, and starts to kind of cuddle into Gerard’s hoodie.
Gerard is smiling because he didn’t even know he had a smell, and he was just thinking the same thing about Frank, so he says, “I love how you smell, too” and lifts his arm to rest a hand on Frank’s hip.
“I don’t think there’s anyone else who smells like you,” Frank murmurs, nuzzling into Gerard’s jacket again, and inhaling deeply. Gerard can feel the air under the grey material turn cold, and it’s a little distracting, but then Frank’s hair is falling messily from the side of his head and onto Gerard’s face, which is more distracting, so Gerard has to sputter a bit because it’s tickling his lips, and Frankie just giggles.
Gerard then starts to laugh a little too. He swears Frank’s giggles are laced with poison, along with every other expression and emotion he displays. If Frank laughs, Gerard will laugh. If Frank pulls a face, Gerard will pull it back. If Frank has tears in his eyes, Gerard has tears in his eyes ...sometimes he even thinks he has Frank’s tears in his own eyes because he wants so much for Frankie to be happy, so if it meant Gerard had to cry forever to see Frank smile forever, he’d do it in a heartbeat.
Gerard is thinking that his feelings for Frank over the last few weeks have become so ridiculous it could possibly kill him, and the fact that they’re around each other for most of the time is already making it difficult for him to be alive. It seems being on the rooftop makes Gerard ponder over things he really shouldn’t be, and the harder he tries to ignore it, the harder it is to ignore, and the harder it is to ignore, the much worse it makes him feel ...and, he doesn’t want Frank to notice. He doesn’t want him to ask what’s wrong, because Gerard’s never lied to Frank, so he’s afraid he’d admit to the truth, which would make him feel guiltier than if he was to lie. Maybe.
Frank’s shuffling around again, and if Gerard hadn’t said it a thousand times already, he’d tell Frank he was a fucking fidget, but it manages to distract him from the billions of butterflies punching his stomach, so he inwardly thanks Frank for that, then mindlessly trails his hand further up Frank’s side and his fingertips begin gliding across his neck. He can feel Frank shiver softly next to him, but it isn’t until he senses Frank’s breath warm on his cheek that he realises what he’s doing, and just how close they are lying together. It’s making his face burn and he has to swallow hard because from the corners of his eyes, Gerard can see Frank staring up at him, and suddenly the butterflies have rocket launchers or something as equally fierce and are shooting at his insides with big, fat lovesick missiles, and probably laughing at him.
“Are you okay?” Frank asks, and Gerard wants to just curl up and vanish because he doesn’t want to have to answer that. He is silently begging Frank to tell him that he doesn’t really have to answer that, that he only said it because they had been quiet for so long and that’s all he could think to say, but he doesn’t, and Gerard cranes his neck a little to look down at him.
Frank’s looking a little worried, and Gerard wants to tell him not to worry, but he can’t help to think that maybe Frank needs to be worried, and that he needs to be worried too. Somehow, Frank’s eyes are sparkling like crazy, as if the stars had fallen from the sky and settled behind his lids on purpose, just so when Gerard looks into them he thinks Frank’s impossibly pretty, and he just says, “I love you, Frankie” because they’re the only words his tongue is letting him form right now.
Frank is smiling faint and delicately, and Gerard can feel himself smiling back a little. He can feel Frank’s hand travel over his stomach, then under his hoodie, and under his shirt ...and if he manages to concentrate well enough, he can feel Frank’s fingertip outline the letter ‘I’, then a heart, the letter ‘U’, and the number ‘2’ against his skin. His own hand slips up under his clothes, their fingers lacing together, and Frank is leaning up, his lips brushing across Gerard’s so gently that Gerard’s mind falls blank for moment to work out if he’s only imagining it, but he’s not, because when he opens his eyes, Frank is still there, and their mouths are still touching. Gerard can still smell his shampoo and bed sheets, but now he can taste cookie dough ice-cream too, and he whispers, “So much” and Frank squeezes his hand a little and mumbles back, “Me too”.
Frank/Gerard [PG-13 - Fluff]
RPS. Don't know. Don't own. No harm intended.
~1390 words
Summary: Gerard kind of forgets that he's not going to live forever, because somehow, that's the way it makes him feel.
Thanks to skelterellax for beta'ing. xo
Con-Crit welcome. Comments are nice.
“Do you think there’s two people out there just like us?” Frank asks, and his voice sounds a little lost as it hits Gerard’s ears and rolls around like empty letters in his head, bouncing all hushed and sugary because Frank has eaten almost an entire tub of cookie dough ice-cream tonight and Gerard thinks maybe it’s stuck somewhere in his throat.
His next breath is heavy and he can feel his stomach sinking in, almost touching his spine, as he stares up at the clouds, smiling at how they swirl like smoke and if he lifts his hand and twirls his finger, it looks like they’re moving from his touch. It isn’t until the slight knock of Frank’s shoe against his own makes his toes tingle and sends the message to his brain that he was supposed to answer his friend’s question, not just listen to it.
“I don’t know,” He says, because he really doesn’t, but he doubt’s it very much. “I doubt it.”
He thinks maybe he can feel Frank shift beside him, but still, he isn’t sure because sometimes staring at the night sky for so long can affect sensing the force of gravity, or not sensing it, because it’s so significant that it becomes insignificant which makes it difficult to be certain it’s really there. But then the back of his hand feels a little warmer than it was only moments ago, and his eyes shift from the stars to beside himself where he finds Frank’s wrist pressed against his skin, and if he bends his index finger just a little to right it would hook with Frank’s own, but he doesn’t because he thinks maybe he really shouldn’t.
“I think it’s impossible,” Frank then tells him, and Gerard has to instantly agree to himself because of course it’s impossible. Now that Frank has said it, Gerard realises it is in fact so impossible that there is absolutely no way to put it, so he doesn’t even try because Frank probably already knows it anyway, which was why his statement had been so blatant, yet unavoidably weak.
They’re silent for a while, or a lot longer than that, Gerard doesn’t really know. Time always seems non-existent whenever he’s up on the roof, and when Frank’s there with him, Gerard kind of forgets that he’s not going to live forever because somehow, that’s the way it makes him feel. Frank shifts again and Gerard shoves his hands deep into the pockets of his pants, pressing his elbows hard against the terracotta tiles underneath him because he’s fallen down before, thanks to his friend’s uneasy movements, and the sound of his bone snapping had made him throw up.
Frank’s head comes to rest softly just below Gerard’s collarbone, and Gerard can smell the faint remnants of his shampoo and maybe even his bed sheets, and he reluctantly wishes he could smell exactly the same because it would mean he has to sleep in Frank’s bed and use his toiletries more often than he already does. Time starts to tick by again. The only sounds surrounding them are the rustling of leaves from the big old oak tree in the back yard, the occasional crunch of car tyres rolling over the gravel road, and their breaths ...in and out, and in ...and out, and over, and over again.
“I love how you smell, Gee,” Frank then says, and starts to kind of cuddle into Gerard’s hoodie.
Gerard is smiling because he didn’t even know he had a smell, and he was just thinking the same thing about Frank, so he says, “I love how you smell, too” and lifts his arm to rest a hand on Frank’s hip.
“I don’t think there’s anyone else who smells like you,” Frank murmurs, nuzzling into Gerard’s jacket again, and inhaling deeply. Gerard can feel the air under the grey material turn cold, and it’s a little distracting, but then Frank’s hair is falling messily from the side of his head and onto Gerard’s face, which is more distracting, so Gerard has to sputter a bit because it’s tickling his lips, and Frankie just giggles.
Gerard then starts to laugh a little too. He swears Frank’s giggles are laced with poison, along with every other expression and emotion he displays. If Frank laughs, Gerard will laugh. If Frank pulls a face, Gerard will pull it back. If Frank has tears in his eyes, Gerard has tears in his eyes ...sometimes he even thinks he has Frank’s tears in his own eyes because he wants so much for Frankie to be happy, so if it meant Gerard had to cry forever to see Frank smile forever, he’d do it in a heartbeat.
Gerard is thinking that his feelings for Frank over the last few weeks have become so ridiculous it could possibly kill him, and the fact that they’re around each other for most of the time is already making it difficult for him to be alive. It seems being on the rooftop makes Gerard ponder over things he really shouldn’t be, and the harder he tries to ignore it, the harder it is to ignore, and the harder it is to ignore, the much worse it makes him feel ...and, he doesn’t want Frank to notice. He doesn’t want him to ask what’s wrong, because Gerard’s never lied to Frank, so he’s afraid he’d admit to the truth, which would make him feel guiltier than if he was to lie. Maybe.
Frank’s shuffling around again, and if Gerard hadn’t said it a thousand times already, he’d tell Frank he was a fucking fidget, but it manages to distract him from the billions of butterflies punching his stomach, so he inwardly thanks Frank for that, then mindlessly trails his hand further up Frank’s side and his fingertips begin gliding across his neck. He can feel Frank shiver softly next to him, but it isn’t until he senses Frank’s breath warm on his cheek that he realises what he’s doing, and just how close they are lying together. It’s making his face burn and he has to swallow hard because from the corners of his eyes, Gerard can see Frank staring up at him, and suddenly the butterflies have rocket launchers or something as equally fierce and are shooting at his insides with big, fat lovesick missiles, and probably laughing at him.
“Are you okay?” Frank asks, and Gerard wants to just curl up and vanish because he doesn’t want to have to answer that. He is silently begging Frank to tell him that he doesn’t really have to answer that, that he only said it because they had been quiet for so long and that’s all he could think to say, but he doesn’t, and Gerard cranes his neck a little to look down at him.
Frank’s looking a little worried, and Gerard wants to tell him not to worry, but he can’t help to think that maybe Frank needs to be worried, and that he needs to be worried too. Somehow, Frank’s eyes are sparkling like crazy, as if the stars had fallen from the sky and settled behind his lids on purpose, just so when Gerard looks into them he thinks Frank’s impossibly pretty, and he just says, “I love you, Frankie” because they’re the only words his tongue is letting him form right now.
Frank is smiling faint and delicately, and Gerard can feel himself smiling back a little. He can feel Frank’s hand travel over his stomach, then under his hoodie, and under his shirt ...and if he manages to concentrate well enough, he can feel Frank’s fingertip outline the letter ‘I’, then a heart, the letter ‘U’, and the number ‘2’ against his skin. His own hand slips up under his clothes, their fingers lacing together, and Frank is leaning up, his lips brushing across Gerard’s so gently that Gerard’s mind falls blank for moment to work out if he’s only imagining it, but he’s not, because when he opens his eyes, Frank is still there, and their mouths are still touching. Gerard can still smell his shampoo and bed sheets, but now he can taste cookie dough ice-cream too, and he whispers, “So much” and Frank squeezes his hand a little and mumbles back, “Me too”.