Before Killing Was Cool ➊ FRERARD

22: I'll Rain On Your Grave

C h a p t e r | T w e n t y - T w o

Present Day - Frank

"They look like flying saucers!" I complain, ready to shred up my pathetic excuse of a self-portrait. I didn't even want to draw myself but Gerard said it'd be easier considering I know my own face better than anyone else's.

"They could be worse...?" He tries to comfort me but is biting back an amused smile.

I tried to tell him I was no good at this. To be honest, I don't really have a lot of talents and creative tasks are way down the list. I think I'm more into music and it makes me wish we had a guitar in this dump.

"Actually, I take that back. The irises look like saucers, and the eyes themselves look like lemons." I sigh.

Gerard can't hold it in anymore. He bursts into manic laughter and wraps his arms round my neck from behind me, resting his head on my shoulder and kissing my jaw. "Frankie, maybe it would help if you added tear-ducts and eyelashes."

Right. I haven't tried all that hard to make the eyes look like eyes. Humans do tend to have eyebrows too.

I want to be annoyed at him for mocking me but I can't with his hands on my chest and his lips by my collarbone. He kisses up my neck and playfully nibbles my ear. The pencil shakes in my grip.

"I won't get anything done if you keep doing that," I groan.

He moves his hands further down and snickers against the back of my head, his breath tickling my hair.

"Sorry. I just can't keep my hands off you." He smirks.

I toss away my 'drawing' and turn to grab him by the waist and throw him back on the bed, making him squeal in surprise. His legs wrap around my waist and he giggles.

Not to be corny but that laugh sounds like a million synchronised wind chimes, the type of melody you never grow tired of. I get distracted so easily.

"Gee, I really want you to teach me how to do art." I whine and lay my head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. Even through his t-shirt, he's cold.

The days are darker now, the wind outside picking up. We're touchy-feely, always, but now more than ever as if it's a basic survival instinct to huddle together for warmth. I haven't mentioned Ray's crappy electricity yet, knowing there's probably very little he can do about it.

"What would I get out of it?" he hums.

"What do you want?" I tease back.

"Oh my God, Frank, bang me sideways, what do you think?" He laughs.

It's my time to smirk. It isn't hard to picture it in my vivid imagination.

"That can be arranged."

"Well, since I love you so much." He proceeds to shuffle out of his clothes. I grin and place a quick kiss to his cheek.

I adore tumbling around like this with him. And banging someone sideways, that's a more-than-satisfactory item checked off my bucket-list. It's fascinating not just to explore the physical sensations, but to discover your most vulnerable identity in a lover. It's safe to say we've used our time together productively and have gained some valuable experience. But it does tire you out.

I wake up at around dinner time, not having realised I fell asleep. I stretch my arm out, looking for Gerard, but my hand fleets around a blank space.

I throw on some clothes and wander into the kitchen then living room where Ray and Bob are but he's not there either. "Where's Gerard?" I ask and they shrug so I roll my eyes and go to check in the bathroom. It's vacant.