Summary: You're stressing yourself out over an exam while on tour and Frank tries to take care of you.
Reader: can be read as any gender
Warnings: stress, language
Word count: 2 153
A/N: I have an exam in pretty exactly 12hours from posting this. Instead of studying I wrote what was supposed to be a drabble but ended up being this.
You had known it was a stupid idea even before you had decided on it, but the idea of letting someone else play your part, of letting someone else play the songs and melodies you had helped come up with had just felt absolutely wrong. But now that you were on tour with My Chemical Romance, knowing you would have to write this stupid exam two days after returning home, you felt like perhaps, just maybe, you should have sat this one out.
The past years had already been hard enough, with driving or flying out to foreign cities as soon as the last lecture of the week was over, playing two or three shows and barely making it back to the classroom in time on Monday morning. One more year of this, you told yourself, and then you would have your degree, and could go on tour with your friends, relaxing between shows just like them, instead of studying for what felt like every waking minute you did not spend on stage. But right now the promise of a whole more year of this was agonizing, especially when you already felt like the next exercise was too much.
Falling backwards onto the mattress of your bunk, in which you had sat, crouched over your book, you let out a quiet sigh. Three days until the exam. The last show of this leg of the tour was tonight, a little more than eight hours away. Maybe you should take a break, have some milk or a snack. After all you had studied since you had finished breakfast, after only a short night.
As if your thoughts had been heard, there was a quiet knock against the frame of your bunk. You groaned affirmatively, and a moment later Frank pushed the curtain you had drawn closed aside, and poked his head in.
"I brought snacks," he declared, showing you how he was balancing a cup of cold strawberry milk and a plate with cut fruits, crackers and cheese in one hand. The cup was so cold, that condensed water from the warm bus was already running down at the sides, collecting as drops on the bottom.
"Oh my god, you are an angel," you laughed, and sat up, taking the treats from him, and placing them on the narrow board that functioned as your headboard. "Where are the others?"
The bus had stopped what you assumed must have been a few hours ago, and not much later you had heard the other band members getting ready to go out.
"Exploring the city," Frank shrugged. "I'm kinda certain Mikey'll be close to missing sound-check again because he found some ice cream parlour or something."
With furrowed brows you watched Frank gesture at you.
"What?"
"Move! I'm coming in."
"Frank-"
All protest was futile as Frank heaved himself up and into your bunk, falling half on top of you in the narrow space.
"Oh, hello there," he grinned, his face only inches away from yours, leaning on his elbow right besides your head.
"Get off," you grumbled, quickly trying to crawl out from underneath Frank without him noticing the how embarrassed you had gotten all of a sudden. It was not unusual for Frank to invade your space, which you anything but minded. Still he hardly was ever as close as now, and you did not trust yourself to not do something really stupid if he stayed this close for longer.
"Whoa, so hostile," Frank pouted, but rolled off of you, almost falling out of the bunk bed in the process, before he sat up. "So, when was the last time you took a proper break?"
The speed at which he went from childishly playful to caring and serious might one day give you whiplash.
"When was the last time you minded your own business," you answered, sitting up again, so your back was to him and leaning over the book once more, checking the sheet of paper besides it to see which exercise you had to do next.
"I'm serious. You won't learn anything without proper breaks."
You had lost count of how many times you had lead similar conversations with him in the past weeks.
"I know, just another..." you counted the numbers on the sheet, "another 4 exercises."
"How about-" you felt Frank move behind you, before he leant over your shoulder and reached for a piece of cut strawberry, "you do these exercises after the break."
Placing his other hand on your chin, he turned your head enough to feed you the piece of strawberry, which most definitely made your face heat up. If he noticed, he did not say anything, and instead watched you with raised eyebrows, as you unhappily chewed on the fruit. But you had to admit, the sweet taste and intense aroma was better than most of the stuff you had had in the last weeks, if not months.
"Good?"
Begrudgingly you nodded in agreement, making Frank smile.
"See, not that hard."
He reached for another piece of fruit, intending to continue feeding you, but you turned your head away, trying to maintain some sort of pride.
"I can eat myself, thanks," you mumbled, and took the piece of apple from Frank.
"Fine, but then do it," he replied, not at all salty, rather amused. He knew how close to a breakdown you were due to all the stress and the pressure of performing well both on stage and in the upcoming exam.
With a deep sigh you popped the apple in your mouth, and grabbed the plate before turning so your back was leaning against the outside of the bus. A victorious grin spread over Frank's face as he watched you take a cracker first, before he grabbed a few grapes for himself. Sitting in silence you shared the food he had brought for you. It was a comfortable silence, one you were only able to share with him, nobody else. And yet the whole time you noticed him watching you. By the time you had finished eating, your mood had brightened a little, and quizzically you looked at Frank.
"What is it?"
Frank shrugged, his eyes scanning your face worriedly.
"Just... you need to take better care of yourself, you know?"
You sighed, having heard the same sermon many times already.
"I know, I know," you shook your head. "But it's not like I can pass this exam without studying for it."
"That's not- Listen, I have the highest respect for you, doing both the band and college at the same time, and I know you have to study. It's just... I think you'd do still way good enough with a little less stressing yourself out. I just don't want you to- I don't know, have a breakdown or something."
"I'm having a breakdown approximately every thirty minutes," you joked humourlessly.
"And that's the problem! I mean, how much did you sleep last night, huh?" Frank scooted a little closer to you, taking the plate out of your hand and placing it next to the untouched glass of strawberry milk on the little shelf. "Four hours? Five at max, right?"
You only shrugged in response, not feeling like telling him that it had probably been closer to three than to four hours.
"Please," Frank pleaded, his eyes big as he grabbed your hands in his rough ones. "Take breaks, take a walk or a nap, eat something, drink a glass of water- I don't care what, just take better care of yourself."
Only half of what he was saying actually reached you, since he had lent so close that his face was only inches from yours. Up this close you could see every single dark lash, the small specks in his eyes, the faint, almost invisible freckles on his nose.
It seemed as if in just that moment Frank himself had grown aware of the proximity, of how you were holding your breath, of the intimacy of the moment.
You were about to take a breath, about to say something to diffuse the tension like you always did, in order to not make him uncomfortable, when Frank's eyes shortly, but noticeably, skipped to your lips.
"Fuck this," he swore in the small space between you, before closing it and pressing his lips to yours.
Surprised – pleasantly surprised – you inhaled, your hand, which was not clasped in Frank's, coming up to his neck, holding him in place. The kiss was soft and warm, in the already too warm bunk, it tasted of summer, of strawberries and watermelon and the relief of breaks from studying. It was fresh air, and yet familiar, Frank was familiar, his smell, the feeling of his hair between your fingers. The way he kissed you was gentle, nothing like the kisses he threatened to chase Gerard or Ray around on stage with. Those were sweat and spit and teeth, but this, right here, right now, was careful, as if he was scared to hurt you, or to be pushed away.
You lost track of time, had no idea for how long you had been kissing Frank, only that you began to grow dizzy with happiness, or lack of oxygen, it was hard to tell. But it didn't matter, it didn't matter because you were kissing Frank, and Frank was kissing you, and it felt like somehow, in all that stress and chaos and pressure, somehow everything had fallen into place, as if you were exactly where you were supposed to be.
Eventually Frank broke the kiss, both of you breathing heavily.
"Shit, I'm sorry," he mumbled, but the way he kept his forehead pressed to yours told you he did not feel all too guilty about having kissed you without having asked for your consent first.
"Don't be," you answered, and kissed him again, short, softer this time, but it made him smile so hard he broke the kiss again.
"I've wanted to do this for so fucking long," he grinned, his eyes searching for yours.
The only thing you were able to say to that was a weak 'yeah', which made Frank grin even more, if that was still possible.
For a while you sat like that, heads leant against each other, shut away from the real world outside the small bunk bed, Frank playing with your fingers and you watching him.
Only the crash of the forcefully thrown open bus door startled you, and all of a sudden everything came flooding back, the tour, the other band members, the show tonight, the exam, the studying-
"Hey Frankie, where are you," Gerard shouted, his steps nearing the bed area.
Alarmed you sat up, anxiously looking over to Frank. As perfect as the kiss and the silence afterwards had been, you had no idea if Frank meant the others to find out. But Frank just tightened his fingers around yours gently, before answering the lead singer.
"Hey, Frankie, (y/n), we were just wondering- did you two make out?"
Gerard had, with far less care for boundaries than Frank previously, ripped open the curtain to your bunk bed and eyed the two of you suspiciously. Only then you realised that, even if there were a decent amount of distance between the two of you, and no hand-holding, Frank's lips were still red and slightly swollen from the kiss, and so were yours most likely.
"Jealous," Frank asked cockily, demonstratively intertwining his fingers with yours.
"Of (y/n)? Definitely," Gerard giggled, making Frank and you both laugh. "Anyway, we were going to order some pizza, you guys want some too?"
Both Frank and you nodded in agreement, and Gerard let you know to join the rest of the band in front of the bus to choose what you wanted from a flyer the others had found somewhere, before he disappeared as quickly as he had turned up.
"Just so we're clear here," Frank started, watching as you slowly stretched, "I've liked you for a real fucking long time, and if it were up to me, we wouldn't go back to how things were... before."
You turned to look at him, a comfortable warmth spreading through your chest at his words.
"Then we won't," you told him, noticing how he relaxed at your reply.
He grinned, before he slipped out of the bunk bed, and once you had gotten out as well, he immediately intertwined his fingers with yours again. He was about to lead out to the front of the bus, when his eyes fell to your other hand, holding the book you had been working with before.
"Seriously," he deadpanned and raised his eyebrows at you.
"Seriously. Only four more exercises, I'll be finished by the time the pizza arrives."
Frank rolled his eyes but grinned.
"Fine, fine," he sighed, and pressed a kiss to your forehead before he led you out to the others.