ghosts and cigarettes ; frerard

where's your heart?

brian wouldn't leave him alone about gerard. like, ever.

the next day, for example. gerard was in his usual corner table, hunched over his sketchbook, his hair falling in his face and hands marked with graphite. frank, who was making a chai latte at the moment, was watching gerard as he meticulously moved his hand over the page, making a very precise line in his sketch. frank couldn't see what he was sketching, not from his point of view, but from the look of intense concentration on gerard's face, frank was pretty sure it was going to be great (as always).

brian sidled up next to frank and nudged him with his shoulder. "eh? checking out your, ah, boyfriend?"

frank only glared at him, not denying the fact that, yeah, maybe he liked gerard. only a little, though.

brian laughed and moved back to his position taking orders. the line had grown impatient as brian frequently walked over to frank just to tease him about gerard, who, frank noticed, hadn't ordered anything yet.

frank looked over at gerard to, well, just to look at him, but the corner table was empty. his sketchbook - now closed - was there, and so was his black denim jacket, but he was nowhere to be seen.

the mystery was solved, however, when a familiar voice spoke to brian behind him.

brian told frank the order - iced latte, of course - and winked at him as frank started to make the drink. he rolled his eyes and turned to the stack of cups, but was startled when a pair of piercing green eyes were staring back at him.

"oh, ah, hey, gerard," frank coughed, busying himself with making the drink properly.

gerard smiled and leaned over the counter a little, hands clasped. "hey, frank." he frowned a little at the redness around frank's tattoos. "how're you holding up?"

"fine," frank shrugged. "do you have a stronger salve? the one you gave me isn't really working." it was true - he had rubbed the balm over his tattoos every day, and still they stung like a motherfucker.

gerard nodded. "yeah, i do. i can bring it tomorrow, if you like?"

"that," frank smiled, holding up the drink. "would be great."

gerard took the coffee with a grateful smile and immediately took a sip. "frank," he said. "i-" he frowned a little and took his weight off the counter. "never mind."

he turned away from frank and moved back to his table, leaving frank to wonder about what he was going to say.

¬

frank sighed and looked at his phone. would ray be up at this hour? honestly, he probably would - he spent hours on end just perfecting intricate guitar riffs. he flopped down onto his bed and held up phone up.

frank: ray hi hello i need Help™

he let his arm fall to his side. it was dark - it was probably one am or something, frank didn't really know - and everything in frank's room was dark, only illuminated by the artificial light of his phone, which buzzed in his hand moments after his text had sent.

ray: what now dickhead

frank sighed and sat up crosslegged on his bed.

frank: remember gerard ? that guy i was telling you about ?

ray: yessir

frank: so like he came back to the shop and holy shit im gay

ray: hon i know

frank: im gonna

ray: ?

frank: im gonna get his fucking number

frank threw his phone onto the end of his bed, not even bothering to look at ray's response. gerard may have been the untouchable customer, but frank was never one for messing around.

--

this is so short and honestly holy shit i hate this chapter :^)))

also um probably gonna update this book again sometime this weekend because i havent updated this in a while and this chapter is absolute shit sO

anyways like i broke up w my girlfriend but like i still like her i just dont like relationships and tbh i dont know what to feel anymore

-urie