𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐮𝐦 † 𝐟.𝐠

seven

The store looked a lot bigger than he remembered. Maybe it was because every step he took now was savored, as if it were his final. Gerard's hand was firm on his and, embarrassingly he was gripping Gerard's just as tight.

They walked close, Frank's head coming in contact with Gerard's bicep every few moments. He wondered how they looked to the public. Did everyone assume that Gerard was Frank's father? Brother? Boyfriend? Or did people take them as friends? He doubted the last one. What friends walked hand and hand this close.

"Are you nervous?" Gerard asked the younger boy.

"Why would I be nervous?" Frank asked not exactly denying the assumption.

"You're holding on to my hand pretty tight," Gerard said with a teasing smile that made Frank blush a lovely color. "Not that I mind, I'd much rather this than being left wondering if running away from me was on your mind." He said suggestively.

Frank looked up to Gerard with his eyebrows drawn together. He couldn't explain why but the offense that he felt from Gerard thinking that of him made his mood dampen.

"I'm not." He said after a few uncomfortable seconds.

Gerard raised an eyebrow, "You're not what?"

Frank regretted speaking in the first place.

"Not thinking about running away." Not now anyways.

Gerard smiled confidently. It made Frank wonder if he already knew. If he had only suggested that Frank wanted to escape to see his reaction. If that was the case he had fallen right into Gerard's trap.

•••

Frank pouted the rest of the trip.

Gerard noticed almost immediately and quite honestly he found it amusing.

He teased his boy every once in a while by asking him to collect an item from a different
aisle, giving him the chance to leave him if he'd like, toying with the boy for the hell of it.  At first it made him nervous. He was sure that he'd leave him without a second thought but by the third time his boy came back handing him the requested item with an unreadable exasperation all feelings of anxiety disappeared.

This was training him, he thought. Justifying his actions.

Forcing his boy to make the smart decision himself. Soon escaping will be the very last thing on Frank's mind. It would just take time and work, and Gerard would be more than happy to out those things in.

"In the cart," Gerard said to Frank when he returned. He'd been instructed to grab a snack for himself and unsurprisingly he brought back with him a box of blueberry flavored Pop-tarts.
Frank wordlessly did as he was asked, still frustrated with Gerard but mostly himself. So far he had embarrassingly lost every battle that Gerard has set up between he and his less than perfect instincts. After a while a it started to feel right. Coming back each time to the taller man's degrading smile. He was going mad that must be it.

Gerard decided not to ask him about what was troubling. If Frank wanted his emotions to be know he would have to learn to voluntarily talk to Gerard. They wouldn't get anywhere if Gerard forced every response from him. The torture of not speaking would eventually get to him. He'd break himself so that he didn't have to.

After a while Frank noticed that by the ingredients Gerard was collecting, or having him collect, that he was going to make some sort of pasta. Frank felt like tearing up as he stared uncomfortably at the box of noodles and sauces in the cart. The same brand of tomato sauce that his mother used when she made his favorites.