About That Journal (Frerard)

Chapter One

A/N:  Pretty small,  sorry xo

        Frank Iero woke up in a cold sweat, confused, flustered, and worst of all, turned on. Not that that would normally bug him, but there was two huge issues about it that was a huge problem. His room mate, Gerard Way, was sleeping next to him in their bed, as usual, and he was the reason Frank was hard in the first place.  Well not purposefully.
        Gerard and Frank were close friends, closer than they had ever been with anyone else,  but they were only that.  Neither one ever once thought of each other that way,  and shit like that was never brought up.
         But Frank just had a sex dream about his best friend,  and not just a basic fuck,  it was detailed,  frank remembered every second of it.  It was jarring,  and Frank was still in shock.  He looked at his room mate,  biting his lip in thought. 
         Gerard was facing away from him,  his medium length brown hair strewn all over his pillow,  and he was snoring softly. 
          At that moment,  Frank was swearing he still didn't think of him as anything other than his absolute best friend,  so why in the hell would he be in his dreams like that? 
          He sighed,  ignoring his boner,  making himself fucking live with it in punishment for that fuckey dream,  rubbing his face and laying back down.  He decided for now he wasn't going to think about it anymore, and if it Happened more than once,  then he'd deal with it. He went back to sleep,  having a class the next day.
🚬                       🚬                            🚬
🚬                       🚬                            🚬

      Four days.  In a row.  He fucking woke up again on the fifth night of these things,  nearly screaming in frustration and confusion.  There was absolutely no reason why he should be dreaming like this.  It was fucked up.  And he had to do something about it. 
           He got up, quietly walking to his desk and grabbing one of his notebooks from his collection/ addiction of office supplies he knew he was probably not going to use,  grabbing a black pen before locking himself in the bathroom.
          Frank planned on writing his latest dream down in the empty notebook,  needing some way times get it off his mind,  and maybe you get it to stop,  even a little.  He sat in the tub,  getting comfortable,  opening the notebook and starting to detail the horrible lewd images into the pages. 

A/N:  Sorry for any errors,  I'm too tired to look for mistakes.