Counting Down The Days To Go (Frerard)

FRANK'S P.O.V.

Tick, tick, tick...

It's 3 am, and I'm staring at the ceiling of Gerard's room while he slept peacefully next to me, our fingers intertwined with the other's. The dog tags around his neck shine with the moon light streaming in from the window. I think back to when I kind-of proposed, which was absolutely spur of the moment. I don't regret it or anything, not at all. Of course, we're not talking about a wedding or anything, because we both know it won't happen. Okay, stop thinking about that before I get the hipster-y sadness in the middle of the night. My eyes wander to the bag in the trash can near the door. Yesterday, we flushed my razors down the toilet. I was really fucking embarrassed he had saw them but he assured me it was okay, that I had no reason to be ashamed. I sighed and looked over to him. God, he's so cute when he's sleeping. The way his hair is messy seemingly beyond repair and his soft snores and how calm he looks is absolutely adorable. I rolled over on my side and craned my neck to lightly kiss him. I thought it was gentle enough to not wake him, but his eyes fluttered open. He squinted, probably trying to adjust his eyes to the light, before grinning. "Why're you up?" he asked, his voice small and crackling.
"I... I just can't sleep," I replied. "I didn't mean to wake you baby, sorry."
"Mm, I like it when you call me baby," he said, yawning. "If you're awake, I'll stay awake with you."
I shook my head. "You don't have to do that."
"But I want to." He reached out and grabbed my waist, pulling me closer to him. I scooted my body up a bit so we were face level, our foreheads touching. The moonlight properly showed his eye color, a beautiful hazel-green. Mine was plain hazel-brown. Disappointing. The corners of my lips tugged up a bit as he took one of his hands off my hips to absentmindedly fiddle with his dog tag.
"Gerard? The first day of school is tomorrow, and..."
"Jamia told me you were bullied," he interrupted, "and you mentioned Jack and beatings once."
I pursed my lips and closed my eyes. "Yeah. He... obviously doesn't like me. I'm not exactly a popular kid."
I felt him bring a hand to my cheek, lightly stroking it with his thumb. He flicked a piece of hair out of my face. "He doesn't like me either. I'm so sorry, Frankie."
"I'm just..." I stopped to think of how to word what I was going to say. "I... I want people to know of us. Because I love you. But knowing that I actually am gay would only boost his ego." I sighed.
"I do too, Frankie. I want people to know about us, because I am not at all ashamed of you or our relationship. Let's..." I could hear the smile in his voice and he laughed. "Let's go public with this. If we get any shit, fuck 'em."
I nodded and opened my eyes. He was staring straight at me, a huge grin on his face. "What?"
"How did I get you?" he asked, shaking his head slightly. "I don't deserve you."
I was going to reply when he suddenly rolled me over so I was on my back, and he was straddling my waist. He leaned down and started peppering my neck and chest in kisses, murmuring things against my skin in between each one. Probably saying "I love you" over and over or something. His kisses trailed down from my chest to my stomach. I was about to complain that we can't have sex the night before school starts (well, technically the morning of the first day of school) when he started tickling my sides. I burst out laughing before realizing what time of day it was and covered my mouth. He started laughing with me.
"Gerard... I... can't-can't breathe..." I managed to gasp in between giggles.
"Fine," he muttered and took his hands off me, resting them on his hips. "You're no fun."
"I... couldn't breathe," I sighed. He leaned forward and kissed my forehead. "What do we do if we don't have classes together?" I blurted out.
He didn't reply for a second. "We have to have at least one." I simply nodded, noticing the fear in his voice. He flopped back down next to me and wrapped his arms around my waist.
"I love you."
"You too."

Notes