Request: Hey could I request Trish? Frank Oreo asks reader to prom. Really fluffly and Funny maybe cringey? Idk
Warnings: super cheesy, somewhat cringey maybe? I think it's cringey a little. In a sweet way.
Word count: 1 831
"Proms suck."
"Yesterday you sounded a lot more enthusiastic about it," Gerard giggled over his lunch.
"Yesterday I didn't consider that (y/n) might say no," Frank exclaimed.
"They won't, don't worry," Mikey shrugged.
It was a not very well kept secret that Frank was terribly in love with you, and it was an equally bad kept secret that you were just as much in love with him too. The only people doubting that? The two of you. Frank thought someone as clever and pretty as you could never be in love with him, and you were convinced someone as talented and badass as him would never be interested in someone as ordinary as you. So both of you thought the stories the other students were telling you were just made up lies.
"You don't know that," Frank whined, unhappily staring at his pasta.
"Yeah, well, I think we do, but if it would make you feel any better, we could help you make a plan," Gerard offered, not at all worried, unlike Frank.
"What kind of plan," he now perked up.
"Dude, how am I supposed to know? I read comics and watch old horror movies all day long, I don't know anything about being romantic," Gerard shrugged, "we'll just make something up."
"Shush now, they're coming over," Mikey warned, just in time, pointing out that you were walking up to your group of friends.
"Does anyone want to exchange their chocolate pudding for vanilla," you asked, sitting down next to Frank, who quickly exchanged your little cup with dessert with his.
~*~
It was still a week until prom, when finally the plan the three friends were working on, got finished. Frank had started to panic already, because how small would the chance be that you did not have a date yet? He even had heard other boys talking about asking you to prom, but when he had talked to you this morning, you had told him that you did not have anyone to go with. And so he slipped the red rose with the little note into your locker.
After the first two classes, you returned to your locker to pick up the books for the next class, but instead of your books, a red flower fell out of it. Surprised you managed to catch the rose before it tumbled to the ground. Curiously you unfolded the typewriter written note that was tied to the stem of it.
"Dear (y/n), I don't want to reveal my name just yet, but I thought you looked very pretty today, I hope you have a great day."
Confused you raised your eyebrows and glanced left and right down the corridor. The usual students were walking past, nobody paying you especially attention, except for Gerard who waved over from the other side of the corridor.
"What's this," he asked curiously, knowing very well that you had just found Frank's first gift.
"I don't know," you furrowed your eyebrows, showing Gerard the note, "someone hitting on me?"
"Aw, (y/n), that's cute," he smiled, but it froze on his face as he saw that instead of being happy you still looked confused.
"I don't want it," you mumbled quietly, only for him to hear.
Yes, you were flattered, but you did not want anyone to be interested in you, if they were not Frank.
"What, why not," shocked Gerard pulled you aside.
"Because-" you looked up at the taller, dark haired boy, "Frank!"
Gerard had known about your crush for a long time, and now he was not even allowed to tell you that it was in fact Frank who had sent you the message.
"Maybe you can try to find out who it is, and let them down gently then," he suggested, "Maybe don't throw away the flower immediately, the guy surely knows you found it already, and would be really upset about it if you threw it away straight away."
"But I don't want it," you argued. It even made you feel uncomfortable; having someone's attention, knowing you would hurt them if you did not return their feelings.
"You can throw it away after school," Gerard argued, knowing that if things went smoothly, you would have found out by then that it was Frank who was trying to woo you, "this way you at least show that, while you might not return their feelings, you don't dismiss them, but care about their feelings."
You nodded, even though you felt uneasy, and together with Gerard you walked to the next class. As soon as you had entered the room, you noticed something was off. The students already in the room, kept glancing over to your desk, and sure enough, there was a second rose. Confused you walked over, and picked it up, this time no note was attached.
Shooting Gerard a look, you collected the rose in your arm with the other one.
And so it continued, every lesson and every break you found a new rose, on your desk, in your locker, and once even a younger student ran up to you, and handed you a flower. You tried to ask him who had told him to give this to you, but instead the boy had just giggled, and run of again.
There were no further notes until you went to your locker after the last class. At this point you were carrying at least twelve roses in your arm, all together huge, beautiful, lovely smelling flowers with deep red petals. Once more a rose tumbled out of your locker, together with a note. Quickly you picked up the note, and added the flower to the bunch in your arm. By now you were not sure if you were feeling flattered or uncomfortable anymore. You thought that if you were not so much in love with Frank, you definitely would give whoever had made such an effort, a chance. Now you unfolded the note, once again typewriter written, not giving away the author by the handwriting.
"I think it's pretty clear now, how I feel about you. Would you do me the honour and accompany me to the prom? Meet me in the schoolyard, I'll be waiting."
Quickly, forgetting even to drop your books off first, you slammed the locker door shut, and turned around on your heels. You were curious to find out who had sent you all these flowers.
When you came closer to the yard, you noticed the students that were standing outside, some giggling, most pointing at a person who stood in the middle of the yard. Quickly you walked outside, and carefully pushed past a few students, to see who the person was.
To you surprise it was Frank, holding a ukulele that hung from his neck. No, that couldn't be. That had to be some coincidence, or a bad joke. But just in that moment his eyes met yours. You could see him swallow nervously before he spoke up.
"(Y/n), this one is for you," he spoke, his voice loud, but slightly shaky. He played a few chords on his ukulele before he began singing. "Wise men say-"
You could hear people giggling, some even started laughing, most were looking between you and him. At the side of the crowd you could see Gerard hiding behind his hands. A blush burnt terribly on your cheeks. You had never expected to be the centre of such attention, or to get a song sung for you, not to mind in front of a crowd, especially not at school. But Frank's voice was clear and beautiful, and carried well over the yard, the sweet words and quiet chords of the instrument making tears sting at the corner of your eyes.
Unluckily not everyone was as moved as you were. Around you people started laughing and bickering, but Frank continued playing, his eyes fixed on you, scared, but also full of hope. When people started talking louder and louder, making fun of him, and how you surely wouldn't say yes now, he just played and sung louder, making your heart break more, before your feet finally listened to your head, and moved forwards.
Quickly you pushed past the people, and crossed the small patch of grass between the edge of the crowd and Frank. On your way you dropped the roses, which you had still been carrying, to the ground, and embraced him, interrupting his play. Confused his arms fell to his side, as you nuzzled your nose into his neck, trying not to squeeze the ukulele too hard between your bodies.
"Yes, yes, yes," you whispered, just loud enough for him to hear, "I'd love to go to prom with you."
Surprised he pulled away, a smile slowly creeping up on his face.
"Really?"
"I want nothing more," you grinned, and following an instinct, you took his face in your hands, and kissed him on the lips.
Around you cheers and applause erupted, but you could not have cared less, because Frank finally reacted and copied your movement, placing his hands on your face too, pulling your closer, without crashing the instrument that dangled between you.
When you eventually were able to focus on something that was not Frank again, the yard had emptied, and you were alone. Brushing your nose against Frank's, you pulled away.
"You know, you could have just asked," you giggled, finally remembering the flowers you had dropped earlier, and went to collect them.
"I didn't think you'd say yes," Frank confessed, swinging the ukulele to his back, and helped you pick up the roses.
"So you wanted to guilt trip me," you joked.
"Make you fall in love with me," Frank corrected seriously.
"Moron," you giggled, and got up, having collected everything off the ground, "I've been in love with you for ages."
Frank placed the few flowers he had picked up, in your arm as well.
"Then we've wasted a lot of time, I'm afraid," he shook his head, "because I honestly can't remember the last time I haven't been in love with you too."
You laughed at his stupid cheesiness, and leant your head against his shoulder.
"Then we've got some catching up to do, don't you think? How about we go out for coffee," you asked boldly.
You knew he would not turn down such an offer, after all he was one of your closest friends, and you knew him well enough to predict his answer. Although you really had not noticed that he liked you.
"When," Frank asks, slowly starting to stroll towards the school's exit.
"Right now?"
Frank chuckled and nodded, throwing an arm around your shoulder.
"I like that," he grinned.
"I like you," you answered without missing a beat, making both of you laugh.
"I like you too, a lot," Frank giggled, and nuzzled his nose against your ear quickly before concentrating on walking again; and together you made your way to your favourite café, arm in arm.