A Revolution On Canvas (Frerard)

29: Gerard Tells Frank To Get In His Bed And Take His Clothes Off

"You know, I have no idea what the fuck could be going on in Frank's head at this particular moment," Lindsey grew a little agitated, "how about, you, you know, ask him? Has that just completely slipped your mind? You know, the concept of communication as a whole?"

Gerard groaned loudly, tapping his fingertips against the countertop as a sign of his immediate dislike in regards to the concept of just asking Frank ratherly plainly about his feelings and what had happened.

"You know what your problem is?" Lindsey told him, wanting more than anything for Gerard to stop whining so she could go the fuck back to sleep, because it was eight in the morning on a Saturday and being awake was practically illegal. "You're too up your own ass, and you won't listen to people, especially when they're right. And I am right. If you just communicated clearly and honestly with everyone I promise you that at least eighty percent of your problems would solve themselves."

Gerard didn't seem convinced by the statistic Lindsey had seemingly conjured out of nowhere. "Yeah, that's kind of debatable."

"Gerard, whatever, just you know that nothing else is going to stop you worrying about Frank than asking him honestly." Lindsey let out a sigh, "come on, use your common sense for once in your fucking life, and hey, maybe Frank was telling the truth, hey maybe he broke up with Max because he realised how in love with you he is." Lindsey suggested, a little too optimistically considering the fact that it was fucking eight in the morning on a fucking Saturday.

"I can fucking wish," Gerard groaned, rolling his eyes, "don't tell me bullshit and get my hopes up. It's not going to be like that." He sighed, "something happened. I know. I know Frank better than you - come on, there's no question about that, is there?"

"Ah, yes," Lindsey smiled, nodding, "therefore it's absolutely certain that you know how to handle a situation involving Frank much better than I do."

"Fuck," Gerard muttered, finishing his cigarette, and dipping his finger in his coffee first this time. After he had confirmed that there was very little risk of severe burns, he brought it to his lips and took a drink. "So what do I do? What do I say?"

"The truth," Lindsey's voice made evident of how much she wanted Gerard to get a grip on the fucking situation and let her go back to sleep: it wasn't that she didn't care, because she did indeed care, and she cared an awful lot - it was just that it was Saturday and it was early, and she cared just that little bit more about her own sleep and her own sanity than she did about Gerard and Frank and their continuous vague and rather pathetic attempts at getting into a relationship. "Tell it him like it is. And then maybe he'll return that gesture."

"God, what am I supposed to do though? If something bad has happened how do I-"

"Gerard," Lindsey raised her voice, "we'll cross that bridge when you come to it, now I think you should put the phone down and go and talk to him or whatever - if he's even awake yet. Why are you even awake? It's so early."

"I couldn't sleep because I was worrying." Gerard admitted, his cheeks turning an absolutely atrocious shade of red. "Worrying about Frank."

"Gerard, you really need to talk to him. Hey, maybe even talk about your feelings, seeing as the boyfriend problem is out of the way now." Lindsey suggested, knowing already that the day Gerard and Frank finally got together, she'd have to arrange a fucking party, because it would certainly be a school wide cause for celebration.

"Yeah, like that's a great idea the morning after his dick of a boyfriend did something really bad so fucking bad that Frank woke the fuck up and broke up with him. What a wonderful idea, Lindsey. Yes, I'll fucking confess my love to him - excellent. What a fucking excellent idea-"