Destruction Used To Be Fun (Frerard)

Cherish Rather Than Forget

By the time Frank got off the phone with Gerard, his heart was beating erratically in his chest and it was way into the early morning hours. Both phones were about to die and Frank really hadn’t wanted the conversation to end. Somehow, they had both managed to drag out their goodbyes for a least another half hour just laughing, saying goodbye at least twenty times, and then remembering a funny story from childhood before Frank’s phone had a big red ‘x’ through the battery icon and was beeping annoyingly and loudly in his ear.

Frank smiles widely and presses his phone to his chest, leaning back over the arm of his couch and doesn’t even care when the arm hits the backs of his knees, causing him to fall backwards clumsily onto the large cushions of his couch with a soft oomph. The miniature heart attack of falling backwards doesn’t even erase the large beam threatening to split his face in two, but lets the happy, bubbly feeling that’s filled him up since he’d called to escape from his chest and mouth in the form of a giggle. He’s in love with the good feeling that’s radiating from him at all possible angles when he suddenly remembers something important: He and Gerard had agreed to meet up at a little cafe down the street from both their apartments on Saturday for coffee.

Frank hurriedly sits up on the couch--the movement is a little awkward since his legs were still on the arm, but he manages to roll somewhat oddly to stand up--losing his phone in the cushions as he does so. He makes a mental note to grab it and charge it later as he runs into the kitchen and looks at his calendar, circling largely the upcoming Saturday. He stares at it for a long moment, unsure if it’s real. He doesn’t want this to be some elaborate and cruel dream that he’ll wake up from tomorrow morning.

So, he pinches himself, hard.

Frank hisses in pain, “Okay, fuck, definitely not asleep.”

Then, he realizes that he really, really isn’t in a good dream and he’s actually going to see Gerard again on Saturday. Frank starts beaming all over again and has to cover his mouth with his hands in order to stop the loud excitement from awakening the neighbors. He just hopes this week goes by fast.

***

Frank’s week couldn’t have gone any slower than it had.

It reminded him of being in school on the last day before Winter or Summer break and each day seemed to take a week in itself to finally be over. To say he was glad it was Friday night was an understatement. He’s pretty sure he would’ve died if he had to wait another five long days.

Frank collapses on his bed, gazing up at the ceiling and wonders if he should’ve called or text Gerard again to make sure they were still on for Saturday. He means to grab for his phone, he really does, but the week had been super exhausting and slow and he’s not really wanting to receive bad news before it’s inevitable, so he falls asleep on top of his covers and has some weird dream he can’t remember.

The next morning, Frank’s puttering all around but in a somewhat orderly fashion. He’d planned this day out so everything goes smoothly before he gets to see Gerard again. He knows that if he hadn’t visualized himself getting ready or at least made some kind of internal schedule then he’d be freaking out by now and a disorganized but excited mess.

It isn’t until he gets out of the shower, wrapping his towel loosely around his hips, that he realizes that he’d forgotten to choose what he wanted to wear. He takes a deep breath at himself in the mirror, messing up his hair a bit as he runs his hand through it in frustration before he decides he can’t just stay in the bathroom and hope the perfect outfit magically comes to him.

Frank moves quickly to his closet, dropping the towel on the floor as he picks out a pair of boxers and slips them on. He opens the sliding closet door and glances around once before he decides that nothing is good enough and pulls the whole rack of clothes out, dumping them out unceremoniously on the middle of his bed. He starts sorting through them, throwing the ones he definitely doesn’t want to wear on the floor and then picking out a few possible choices and laying them out in another pile on his desk chair. When the finally reaches the bottom of the giant clothes pile, he takes a deep breath and grabs the stack off the chair. He then stands in front of his full length mirror and one by one puts them in front of his body to see how it would look on him without trying on about twenty different possible outfits.