Disenchanted

Gerard and Frank continued their Friday sessions for the next few weeks. Each continued to feel something for the other, obviously without letting on. Frank began to make slight progress and that made Gerard extremely happy. The majority of the time spent during their sessions they would sit and talk like they were supposed to, Frank telling Gerard about his week at school and how he had felt during it and Gerard questioning him on certain things and offering advice. Other times Frank would be in a restless mood and would be unable to sit and talk to Gerard. Instead he would stalk around the office, ranting about something that had pissed him off earlier in the week. It amused Gerard to hear Frank get so angry but it also made him happy that Frank could now speak so passionately about something, whether it behow fucking badly animals are treated in this fucking city, man or why can’t more people in the world be vegetarians? I mean, going without meat isn’t that hard you fucking assholes, when before he had found it hard to even nod or shake his head when asked his opinion on something.Other times Frank would refuse to sit and would just wander around Gerard’s office, browsing his bookshelves and picking up book after book and questioning Gerard on it’s contents before disinterestedly shoving it back into place. He would wander over to the window and stare out it, looking at the people below them lining the streets without speaking. Then, without any warning he would spin on his heels and plop down onto one of the fluffy rugs on Gerard’s floor and mess with it’s fur, questioning Gerard about his day, his innocent eyes looking into Gerard’s with interest.

Those were Gerard’s favourite times. They would sit opposite each other on the rug, Frank’s feet crossed under him and they would chat about music and bands and god knows what else. Sometimes Gerard even managed to get a laugh out of Frank. However their sessions were not always so light hearted and friendly. There would be times when Gerard would call Frank into his office and Frank would push past him and slam the door after himself with a bang. He would then make his way over the armchair that had become his and curl up into a ball on top of it, bringing his knees up to his chest and resting his head on top of them, his converse scuffing the leather. He would bring his hoodie clad sleeves up to his face and cry into them, a low weeping sound that was designed to attract neither attention nor sympathy, just the sound of a broken boy letting out what he had been desperately trying to keep in. At times like those Gerard knew he would not be able to get Frank to speak so he’d perch himself on the arm of Frank’s chair and hold him close as he cried, making a mental note to ask him about it during the next session.

Gerard hated to see Frank in such pain but he had to admit he enjoyed holding Frank and offering him comfort when he was unhappy. He only wished he could have an excuse to hold Frank when he was in a happier mood. He sensed it would be much more enjoyable for them both. Basically Gerard wanted to hold Frank pretty much all of the time. However, Gerard knew he was already overstepping the mark by holding Frank when he cried. He knew as an adult in his position, he wasn’t supposed to touch his patients, even in a kind gesture of comfort, which frankly sucked. I mean, what was he supposed to do, leave Frank there to cry and make him feel more abandoned than ever? Gerard didn’t think so. But he knew that holding Frank like he did would be considered wildly inappropriate. Gerard knew why these rules were in place. He also knew that a lot of people that went to therapy didn’t want to be touched. Frank positively clung to Gerard. It made Gerard feel like Frank wanted to be held by as much as he wanted to hold him. At first Gerard had been holding Frank in a gesture of comfort and nothing more, but now when Frank clung to him sobbing, the feel of Frank’s tiny body under his strong arms gave him a sort of peace. He felt like everything was right when he had his arms around Frank.

By now he had come to realise he felt something for Frank. When he held him the world seemed right. When he sat with him on the floor laughing about dumb shit he felt slightly more alive than he had been feeling for the past few weeks. Frank’s case had taken a lot of energy out of Gerard, yet it all seemed worth it when he saw Frank smile or give the smallest of laughs. He felt more awake when he was with him, more awake than he could ever be by drinking endless cups of coffee. Liking Frank didn’t feel wrong to Gerard. Yes he was twenty two years old and Frank was seventeen but it wasn’t a huge difference, was it? Plus, Gerard had just turned twenty two and Frank would be eighteen in a few months. It wasn’t like Frank was fifteen or anything. But even if he was fifteen Gerard hadn’t done anything wrong had he? He hadn’t thought about Frank inappropriately at all. He shuddered at the thought. He didn’t want Frank like that. He didn’t want to use him. He wanted to be with him.

The realisation had hit Gerard quite suddenly and it wasn’t something he wanted to think about. He wanted to forget about it for the time being. Frank obviously didn’t feel the same, he probably wasn’t even gay, or even bi. Gerard hadn’t even thought of himself that way until that moment. He couldn’t be gay, or even bi. He hadn’t thought of another guy that way before, not even once. Yeah he thought certain guys were good looking but every guy thought that sometimes, right? Frank was the only guy he had ever felt attracted to. But even so, that didn't make him gay, did it? He couldn't be. He was happily with Lindsey. At least he had been until a few weeks ago.

Gerard shook the thought from his head. He couldn't like Frank. It was ridiculous. Frank was only seventeen, he was a minor. He could get into a lot of trouble if he ever acted on his feelings for Frankie. No, he couldn't like him. He loved Lindsey, he really did. He loved waking up to her face in the morning, he loved seeing her smile, he loved the way her hair smelled. He loved Lindsey. He loved Lindsey. Yes, he loved Lindsey. He couldn’t possibly even like Frank, how could he? He loved his fiancé. He loved her, not him. Her.

Notes

Thank you for reading!