Like Brothers on a Hotel Bed
Title: Like Brothers on a Hotel Bed
Pairing:Gerard/Frank
Rating:PG-13
Disclaimer: If i owned My Chemical Romance, do you really think i would be sitting in my room writing this false story?
You may tire of me as our December sun is setting
'Cause I'm not who I used to be
No longer easy on the eyes
These wrinkles masterfully disguise
The youthful boy below
who turned your way and saw
Something he was not looking for
Both a beginning and an end
But now he lives inside someone he does not recognize
When he catches his reflection on accident
'Cause now we say goodnight
From our own separate sides
Like brothers on a hotel bed
It has been eight years. Eight agonizing years without Frank. If I close my eyes, and concentrate really fucking hard, I can still gaze into his large hazel eyes. Even in my imagination I get lost in them. Behind my eyelids I still see that smile, the one that could illuminate a whole black cave. I miss him. Even after so long, I miss his touch. The way his slightly calloused fingers felt like silk on my skin. It sends shivers down my spine just thinking about it now.
He got married three years ago. He's most likely a daddy, and he has most likely built a strong, loving family. Something we always dreamt about. Even though genetically, and morally, it wouldn't work, you could have never tore our hopes down. We we're young, in love, and it was us against the world. Actually, our love was never something planned. I was never even interested in males until Frank came along. He just waltzed into my body and stole my heart. I guess he never returned it either.
A lot changes in eight years. But as I was about to learn, a lot could change in one afternoon.
I was sitting on my old, worn leather couch with a bowl of chicken flavored Ramen in my lap, and the TV blaring some infomercial. The winter wind whipped and howled against my second-floor apartment window. It was late on this Saturday night, any normal human being would already be asleep, or frantically finishing their Christmas shopping. Taking a bite of my not-so-hearty dinner, a faint knock echoed through the apartment. With a grunt I hoist myself up and shuffle, with heavy feet, to the door. I pull back the three various locks and swing the door open to a much older, much more mature Frank Iero. And I swear my heart skipped a beat, or four.
His lip and nose rings have disappeared, along with his round, boyish face. But he still adorns those beautiful, glowing eyes. Only, a little more brilliant with growth. His eyes avert to his worn converse and a smirk plays across his lips.
"Eight years huh?"
My tongue swells up about ten sizes larger than normal, and my voice is dry, hoarse.
"Yeah."
It has been eight fucking years and all I can mutter to the man who my heart belongs to is 'yeah'. Hey everyone, look how pathetic I am!
I pull myself together a little better, and invite him inside, not even worrying about the mess. I clear the bile that had suddenly lodged itself in my throat.
"I guess you can make your self comfortable."
He smiles warmly at me, that smile slowly melting me into a puddle on the floor. While he makes himself comfortable on the couch, I perch onto the recliner arm and ring my hands together in my lap. I haven't been this nervous in eight years. Only Frank can do this to me. I guess he notices my tension, and finally speaks up.
"I got married."
My heart sinks down and rests inside my stomach, burning from the mixture of stale acid and Ramen Noodles. This wasn't really the way I imagined us talking. All of the false situations I conjured up over the years usually involved him barging into my apartment, and confessing he was an idiot, and that he always loved me. Funny how distorted my vision of reality had become. I suck in a ragged breath and look down to my tangled hands.
"Yeah, Mikey told me. Congratulations, man."
I feign happiness the best I can, but part of me thinks he sees right through it. Frank was always good at reading my pages. He scoffs and stares at the floorboards as if they were going to help him with what he has to say.
"Marriage isn't all its cracked up to be, Gee," the nickname Frank made for me rolls off his tongue so perfectly. I can't believe he still calls me that. It's almost funny how surprised I am. "Don't get me wrong, she was wonderful. I couldn't have asked for a better wife. But can I be frank?"
If this was any other day, in any other situation, I probably would have giggled. Instead, I just nod my head slowly.
"She wasn't you, Gerard. She didn't smell like you. She didn't taste like you, feel like you. I became so exhausted trying to use her, to cover up my feelings for you. When I was with her, I became someone new. I started drinking, something I vowed never to do. After I saw what alcohol put you through I decided I was never going to hurt the people I love with the burden of drinking. But it washed you away Gerard. It temporarily got you out of my mind, and off of my conscious. I'm not who I used to be."
It was then, as he was confessing all this, that I notice how tired he looks. Deep set wrinkles around his eyes show years of hurt, joy, and life. Dark circles encompass his wild eyes, and for a brief moment I worried, that this man sitting in front of me was not Frankie. But when he raised his head, and those eyes met mine, I could see him. The charismatic boy I once fell in love with was there, only buried underneath the pain Frank had endured. Pain because of me.
A small sigh emits from his thin lips as he slips his eyes shut. In a barely audible whisper he states, "I still love you, Gerard."
My breath hitches in my throat and tears sting the back of my eyelids. When Frank's eyes open again I'm met with nothing but raw honestly that ties my insides into multiple knots.
I stand up quickly from the arm of the recliner and hold my hand out to Frank.
"Stay the night?"
For the first time that night a grin breaks across both of our faces as we lightly walk into the bedroom. We peel off our many layers of clothing, and slide under the sheets next to each other. We keep our distance, still too timid to touch. Even in the dark of the room his eyes pierce straight through my chest, and pull at my heart strings. When we finally become settled, I rest a shaky hand on his cold cheek, tracing small circles with my thumb.
"I still love you too, Frankie."
Then finally, our lips meet in a soft kiss. The only thing time couldn't take down in its tide.
Pairing:Gerard/Frank
Rating:PG-13
Disclaimer: If i owned My Chemical Romance, do you really think i would be sitting in my room writing this false story?
You may tire of me as our December sun is setting
'Cause I'm not who I used to be
No longer easy on the eyes
These wrinkles masterfully disguise
The youthful boy below
who turned your way and saw
Something he was not looking for
Both a beginning and an end
But now he lives inside someone he does not recognize
When he catches his reflection on accident
'Cause now we say goodnight
From our own separate sides
Like brothers on a hotel bed
It has been eight years. Eight agonizing years without Frank. If I close my eyes, and concentrate really fucking hard, I can still gaze into his large hazel eyes. Even in my imagination I get lost in them. Behind my eyelids I still see that smile, the one that could illuminate a whole black cave. I miss him. Even after so long, I miss his touch. The way his slightly calloused fingers felt like silk on my skin. It sends shivers down my spine just thinking about it now.
He got married three years ago. He's most likely a daddy, and he has most likely built a strong, loving family. Something we always dreamt about. Even though genetically, and morally, it wouldn't work, you could have never tore our hopes down. We we're young, in love, and it was us against the world. Actually, our love was never something planned. I was never even interested in males until Frank came along. He just waltzed into my body and stole my heart. I guess he never returned it either.
A lot changes in eight years. But as I was about to learn, a lot could change in one afternoon.
I was sitting on my old, worn leather couch with a bowl of chicken flavored Ramen in my lap, and the TV blaring some infomercial. The winter wind whipped and howled against my second-floor apartment window. It was late on this Saturday night, any normal human being would already be asleep, or frantically finishing their Christmas shopping. Taking a bite of my not-so-hearty dinner, a faint knock echoed through the apartment. With a grunt I hoist myself up and shuffle, with heavy feet, to the door. I pull back the three various locks and swing the door open to a much older, much more mature Frank Iero. And I swear my heart skipped a beat, or four.
His lip and nose rings have disappeared, along with his round, boyish face. But he still adorns those beautiful, glowing eyes. Only, a little more brilliant with growth. His eyes avert to his worn converse and a smirk plays across his lips.
"Eight years huh?"
My tongue swells up about ten sizes larger than normal, and my voice is dry, hoarse.
"Yeah."
It has been eight fucking years and all I can mutter to the man who my heart belongs to is 'yeah'. Hey everyone, look how pathetic I am!
I pull myself together a little better, and invite him inside, not even worrying about the mess. I clear the bile that had suddenly lodged itself in my throat.
"I guess you can make your self comfortable."
He smiles warmly at me, that smile slowly melting me into a puddle on the floor. While he makes himself comfortable on the couch, I perch onto the recliner arm and ring my hands together in my lap. I haven't been this nervous in eight years. Only Frank can do this to me. I guess he notices my tension, and finally speaks up.
"I got married."
My heart sinks down and rests inside my stomach, burning from the mixture of stale acid and Ramen Noodles. This wasn't really the way I imagined us talking. All of the false situations I conjured up over the years usually involved him barging into my apartment, and confessing he was an idiot, and that he always loved me. Funny how distorted my vision of reality had become. I suck in a ragged breath and look down to my tangled hands.
"Yeah, Mikey told me. Congratulations, man."
I feign happiness the best I can, but part of me thinks he sees right through it. Frank was always good at reading my pages. He scoffs and stares at the floorboards as if they were going to help him with what he has to say.
"Marriage isn't all its cracked up to be, Gee," the nickname Frank made for me rolls off his tongue so perfectly. I can't believe he still calls me that. It's almost funny how surprised I am. "Don't get me wrong, she was wonderful. I couldn't have asked for a better wife. But can I be frank?"
If this was any other day, in any other situation, I probably would have giggled. Instead, I just nod my head slowly.
"She wasn't you, Gerard. She didn't smell like you. She didn't taste like you, feel like you. I became so exhausted trying to use her, to cover up my feelings for you. When I was with her, I became someone new. I started drinking, something I vowed never to do. After I saw what alcohol put you through I decided I was never going to hurt the people I love with the burden of drinking. But it washed you away Gerard. It temporarily got you out of my mind, and off of my conscious. I'm not who I used to be."
It was then, as he was confessing all this, that I notice how tired he looks. Deep set wrinkles around his eyes show years of hurt, joy, and life. Dark circles encompass his wild eyes, and for a brief moment I worried, that this man sitting in front of me was not Frankie. But when he raised his head, and those eyes met mine, I could see him. The charismatic boy I once fell in love with was there, only buried underneath the pain Frank had endured. Pain because of me.
A small sigh emits from his thin lips as he slips his eyes shut. In a barely audible whisper he states, "I still love you, Gerard."
My breath hitches in my throat and tears sting the back of my eyelids. When Frank's eyes open again I'm met with nothing but raw honestly that ties my insides into multiple knots.
I stand up quickly from the arm of the recliner and hold my hand out to Frank.
"Stay the night?"
For the first time that night a grin breaks across both of our faces as we lightly walk into the bedroom. We peel off our many layers of clothing, and slide under the sheets next to each other. We keep our distance, still too timid to touch. Even in the dark of the room his eyes pierce straight through my chest, and pull at my heart strings. When we finally become settled, I rest a shaky hand on his cold cheek, tracing small circles with my thumb.
"I still love you too, Frankie."
Then finally, our lips meet in a soft kiss. The only thing time couldn't take down in its tide.