Heartache.
That's all I'm feeling.
I somehow regret what I'd done with Gerard overnight.
But we've been talking again and I don't want to ruin that. We haven't been talking in the way I'd specifically prefer, but it's better than not talking at all. I think talking to him is causing more heartache than not talking to him, though, because he's acting like we're just friends. Yeah, I'm a friend. A friend he's kissed, spent Valentine's Day with, fucked last night, said 'I love you' to, done dirty things to. I'm just a friend.
But last night, I was still awake when he got home. For once, he was only a little tipsy.
"F-Frank," he said. I don't think he stuttered because he was kinda drunk. I'm pretty sure it was because he was nervous.
"Hey, sweetheart," I mumbled back to him.
"Hey."
"Fun night?"
"No."
"Why not?" I asked.
"Just... Feeling sick."
I still don't understand what he meant by that. I mean, he's always sick after a night out. Maybe he meant mentally. I wouldn't be surprised.
"Oh."
Gerard leaned back against the counter.
"Water?" I said.
"No, I want something else," he replied bluntly.
"Which is...?"
"N-nevermind."
What did he want? What did he want that he couldn't share with me?
He mumbled something under his breath and started making his way upstairs. With a roll of my eyes, I dragged myself to follow him.
I found him sitting on our bed, and I sat down beside him. He pulled me onto his lap and placed my legs on either side of his hips, and he gently rested his hands on my waist. Why would he do that? For all I knew, his lips could've been on someone else's just half an hour ago, and now he was doing this.
"Frankie," he said softly.
I wish he hadn't called me that. It reminded me of the days where we were happy together. He always used to call me that, and when he said it now, I almost felt my heart sizzle like soda.
He touched his lips to mine and rubbed his hips against me. I so badly wanted him to stop, but I also so badly wanted him to continue.
"Ugh, Gerard," I mumbled after pulling away. "Why do you do this to me?"
"Shh, come on, Frankie," he said coaxingly. "It's okay, I-"
"You what?"
"I - Um... I think... I think I still love you," Gerard said, rubbing the back of his neck.
Now thinking about it, I realize he probably only said that to get what he wanted.
But at the time, I wasn't thinking, so that's all it took. I couldn't stop myself from tearing his shirt off and pushing him down so that I was on top of him, kissing him, while he struggled to take my shirt off as well. Refusing to detach his lips from mine for more than a few seconds, my shirt was thrown to the side and we connected our lips again. I teasingly tugged on his belt buckle.
"Frank, please," he said hungrily.
I didn't answer. If he was going to isolate me for weeks and expect me to do as he says, well, he was wrong.
