You're Never Gonna Fit In Much
Friends?
A/N
friend-zone = eternal friendship and a boundary that can never by crossed under without the awkward "we have to talk about that one time" talk
to be friend-zoned means to be looked upon as a sibling
===================================================================
“What did you say he was selling?” Ray doesn’t turn his attention from the guitar he was trying to restring for Mikey.
“Music stuff.” I could tell Frank was answering the question to the best of his ability and I knew full well he wanted more answers, but he seemed to have settled for what he already knew.
Why is my room always so damn stuffy?
Ray finally turns his attention from the strings and looks to Mikey. Lips pursed. Eyebrows knitted. “If it was just music stuff… why be so… Why be so black market about it?” Ray asked what was gnawing at all their minds. It was somehow intoxicating to know what they didn’t.
Mikey broke the eye contact with Ray and set his sights on his hands as they fiddled with his shoelaces. “It wasn’t totally legal or anything.” I notice every one, but Frank has wide eyes when he said that. “It was just stuff fans wanted for cheap.”
Bob looks so lost and it’s adorable. Yeah, I think I like being in the know. “Fans of what?”
“Different bands.” Another of his house renowned sighs.
“Well, what’d you sell them?” Ray leans forward anticipating an answer. Frank just shovels more ice cream into his face and looks on.
“Tickets, CDs, concerts. Whatever I could get my hands on that seemed worth something.”
“Really? A concert in a brown bag?” Bob’s questions weren’t always the best, but I hadn’t thought to ask this one and I honestly wanted to know the answer.
“USB.” Well, that made sense. Judging by the generic chin scoops I was seeing, everyone must be thinking the same thing.
The silence fell all too quickly and no one seemed to be planning to break it, so I made an effort myself. “Well, I’m ordering Chinese. Did you guys want anything in particular?” Someone please respond. Anyone.
After awkward glances from everyone, Frank shakes his head no and says “Nah, I’ll eat whatever.” He grins like a five year old and plunges his spoon into the bucket of ice cream.
“Well, you won’t be eating anything if that ice cream you’re demolishing gives you a stomach ache.” I put on the parental tone I know Mikey hates.
“Oh, you have no idea what I’m capable of.” Then he smirks and I’m almost positive he’s drunk off ice cream with the way he’s slurring. My eyes follow his hands to his belly and I wouldn’t be mad if they went south a few inches. “Stomach of steel.”
Ray finds this pause in conversation to be an opportunity to interject with “Spicy honey shrimp!” as he and Mikey leave my room. Well, Mikey more dragging him out than Ray going of his own free will.
“I want orange chicken.” Bob lazily heads through the door
Ray reappears and clings to the door frame while he’s being yanked at by who I assume is Mikey. “And fried rice!” He lets go and I hear them collapse in the hall.
“Orange chicken, spicy honey shrimp and fried rice.” I repeat the order
“Actually can I have pizza?” Frank pipes up, muffled by the ice cream. “Garlic Crust, please.”
I think about it, but I’m fully aware I could never say no to the boy of my dreams. Although, pizza should really never be ordered. “You ever been to Judy’s?”
“Who’s she?” He’s the best example of confusion Wikipedia could give right now.
“Judy’s Pizzeria. We’ll have to pick it up though.”
“We?” There goes the puffed lip. “You’re getting everyone else their food.”
“I can order their food.” I shuffle on my shoes, sense I’m doing actual labor now. “And I hate going to the pizzeria alone.”
“Okay, let’s go.” He grabs the ice cream bucket and darts through the door, I try to keep him in sight and see him toss the ice cream in the freezer. He grabbed my hand and pulled me out of the outside before I can blink and I have to assume they know we left. I mean they were in the living room, but they get scary in the zone for Donkey Kong.
I look around and realize “Frank, you’re dragging me the wrong way.” At that he turns on his heels and drags me the opposite direction. It’s not the fastest route, but I won’t correct him again. Instead, I let him think he hit the nail on the head.
He slows down after a while and I can’t complain about the hand holding. Our hands fit nicely like this, but I decide to lace our fingers anyways. I get a glance from him, but it’s blushy and he’s grinning like crazy. I can’t hold back a smile of my own.
I can’t help thinking this is awesome.
I can’t help using his hand as leverage to pull him a little closer.
“Gerard?” It sounds amazing when he says it.
“Yeah, Frankie?” This is perfect.
“Are we friends?”
“Y-yeah. I mean, aren’t we?” My throat is dry and I swallow hard. “Like, do you want to be?” I look down at him, his eyes immediately locking with mine. I turn away and jesus I think I just got whiplash.
“Kinda,” Well, that’s not ‘yes of course!’, but I didn’t hear a ‘no’. “But it’s like… never mind.”
“Frank-?”
“I just don’t want to be like… ya know… I don’t want to be friend-zoned.”
I open and close my mouth like a guppy, trying to read between the lines and find the right words. Words good enough to make this not stop. Honesty. I’ll just be honest.
“I don’t want you to be. Friend-zoned… I don’t want that.”
He grins like he'd just been given an early Christmas the kind of grin that really reaches a person's eyes and I can barely breathe because he's pecking my cheek and smiling and pulling towards pizza spot and then he says it. He only had to say one thing after all.
"Good."
friend-zone = eternal friendship and a boundary that can never by crossed under without the awkward "we have to talk about that one time" talk
to be friend-zoned means to be looked upon as a sibling
===================================================================
“What did you say he was selling?” Ray doesn’t turn his attention from the guitar he was trying to restring for Mikey.
“Music stuff.” I could tell Frank was answering the question to the best of his ability and I knew full well he wanted more answers, but he seemed to have settled for what he already knew.
Why is my room always so damn stuffy?
Ray finally turns his attention from the strings and looks to Mikey. Lips pursed. Eyebrows knitted. “If it was just music stuff… why be so… Why be so black market about it?” Ray asked what was gnawing at all their minds. It was somehow intoxicating to know what they didn’t.
Mikey broke the eye contact with Ray and set his sights on his hands as they fiddled with his shoelaces. “It wasn’t totally legal or anything.” I notice every one, but Frank has wide eyes when he said that. “It was just stuff fans wanted for cheap.”
Bob looks so lost and it’s adorable. Yeah, I think I like being in the know. “Fans of what?”
“Different bands.” Another of his house renowned sighs.
“Well, what’d you sell them?” Ray leans forward anticipating an answer. Frank just shovels more ice cream into his face and looks on.
“Tickets, CDs, concerts. Whatever I could get my hands on that seemed worth something.”
“Really? A concert in a brown bag?” Bob’s questions weren’t always the best, but I hadn’t thought to ask this one and I honestly wanted to know the answer.
“USB.” Well, that made sense. Judging by the generic chin scoops I was seeing, everyone must be thinking the same thing.
The silence fell all too quickly and no one seemed to be planning to break it, so I made an effort myself. “Well, I’m ordering Chinese. Did you guys want anything in particular?” Someone please respond. Anyone.
After awkward glances from everyone, Frank shakes his head no and says “Nah, I’ll eat whatever.” He grins like a five year old and plunges his spoon into the bucket of ice cream.
“Well, you won’t be eating anything if that ice cream you’re demolishing gives you a stomach ache.” I put on the parental tone I know Mikey hates.
“Oh, you have no idea what I’m capable of.” Then he smirks and I’m almost positive he’s drunk off ice cream with the way he’s slurring. My eyes follow his hands to his belly and I wouldn’t be mad if they went south a few inches. “Stomach of steel.”
Ray finds this pause in conversation to be an opportunity to interject with “Spicy honey shrimp!” as he and Mikey leave my room. Well, Mikey more dragging him out than Ray going of his own free will.
“I want orange chicken.” Bob lazily heads through the door
Ray reappears and clings to the door frame while he’s being yanked at by who I assume is Mikey. “And fried rice!” He lets go and I hear them collapse in the hall.
“Orange chicken, spicy honey shrimp and fried rice.” I repeat the order
“Actually can I have pizza?” Frank pipes up, muffled by the ice cream. “Garlic Crust, please.”
I think about it, but I’m fully aware I could never say no to the boy of my dreams. Although, pizza should really never be ordered. “You ever been to Judy’s?”
“Who’s she?” He’s the best example of confusion Wikipedia could give right now.
“Judy’s Pizzeria. We’ll have to pick it up though.”
“We?” There goes the puffed lip. “You’re getting everyone else their food.”
“I can order their food.” I shuffle on my shoes, sense I’m doing actual labor now. “And I hate going to the pizzeria alone.”
“Okay, let’s go.” He grabs the ice cream bucket and darts through the door, I try to keep him in sight and see him toss the ice cream in the freezer. He grabbed my hand and pulled me out of the outside before I can blink and I have to assume they know we left. I mean they were in the living room, but they get scary in the zone for Donkey Kong.
I look around and realize “Frank, you’re dragging me the wrong way.” At that he turns on his heels and drags me the opposite direction. It’s not the fastest route, but I won’t correct him again. Instead, I let him think he hit the nail on the head.
He slows down after a while and I can’t complain about the hand holding. Our hands fit nicely like this, but I decide to lace our fingers anyways. I get a glance from him, but it’s blushy and he’s grinning like crazy. I can’t hold back a smile of my own.
I can’t help thinking this is awesome.
I can’t help using his hand as leverage to pull him a little closer.
“Gerard?” It sounds amazing when he says it.
“Yeah, Frankie?” This is perfect.
“Are we friends?”
“Y-yeah. I mean, aren’t we?” My throat is dry and I swallow hard. “Like, do you want to be?” I look down at him, his eyes immediately locking with mine. I turn away and jesus I think I just got whiplash.
“Kinda,” Well, that’s not ‘yes of course!’, but I didn’t hear a ‘no’. “But it’s like… never mind.”
“Frank-?”
“I just don’t want to be like… ya know… I don’t want to be friend-zoned.”
I open and close my mouth like a guppy, trying to read between the lines and find the right words. Words good enough to make this not stop. Honesty. I’ll just be honest.
“I don’t want you to be. Friend-zoned… I don’t want that.”
He grins like he'd just been given an early Christmas the kind of grin that really reaches a person's eyes and I can barely breathe because he's pecking my cheek and smiling and pulling towards pizza spot and then he says it. He only had to say one thing after all.
"Good."
Notes
Hope you like fluff!
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7/7/14