25 Reasons Why I Hate You

Avoiding Frank hasn’t been an easy task, and considering the fact Gerard has multiple classes with him, it’s also been really fucking tiring. No, change it to exhausting; and not even physically, like, after a good lay or something, but emotionally. Frank is constantly giving him this look, this really fucking pained look and he can’t say the pieces that are left of his heart don’t crack every time he sees it.
Four months have passed since his family moved back here, and a lot of things have changed. For example, Frank isn’t the pissed-off-his-ass-hurt-one anymore. Now it’s Gerard, and it really doesn’t suit his facial features.

April eighth rolls by quickly and Gerard praises the Lord that it’s a Friday, and hopes nobody will remember him on the day following after. It’s not like he hates presents or free coupons or whatever, but he really fucking doesn’t need sympathy, and that’s all he would get from his dear friends. The thing, of course, is the fact that he’ll have to survive Friday first. He’s already held a lecture to Lindsey about how he doesn’t want company or anything and she assured him that it is okay and hugged him so tight it felt like he could explode right there and then. She is like, a gift of God or something sometimes, seriously.

But it still hurts on Friday morning when Gerard walks by one of the many school bathrooms and hears muffled cries that sound like someone really dear to him, to say the least, and Lindsey’s soothing voice, probably muttering reassurance and keeping him in place so he doesn’t crumble on the floor like Gerard usually does every fucking time. Maybe Frank is right, he is pathetic. He even has proof: his heart is currently breaking into shards again, but he isn’t letting it get to him. Gerard has no fucking clue why Frank’s the one crying, even, when Gerard is the one who got sort-of-kind-of-not-so-dumped.

The only thing he can think about while struggling to guide his idiot legs to English is the way that Frank sounded completely broken, and he doesn’t even understand why.
And the worst part of it all is the fact Gerard isn’t even pissed anymore, just hurt. He’s already forgiven Frank for all that he said just because he denied it afterwards, and he can’t seem to forgive himself for doing so.

*

The whole day itself turns out to be a complete drag. Gerard really tries not to pay any attention to Frank, but it’s no avail and at one point during lunch [while he’s sitting outside the cafeteria in the shielded corner, smoking and looking at the population of Belleville High being disgusting teenagers] he actually sees him grin at something Lindsey said and Gerard hates the fact that makes him want to smile, too. It’s just so frustrating, because he’s so torn between his rational and his emotional side, which hasn’t happened a lot in his short life. Actually, it hasn’t happened at all unless it involved Frank.
But again, when he looks over at Gerard’s spot on their usual table and the grin immediately disappears, Gerard feels a pang in his chest that definitely isn’t caused by the huge drag he’s just taken. Of course he blames it on that, simply because he hates acknowledging that, even though he is the damaged side in this argument, the fact Frank’s hurting is much worse to him than anything he, himself is going through.

*

When he comes home, he tries to stay away from Mikey as much as he can, simply because he doesn’t want another ‘I told you so’ lecture. Mikey doesn’t understand, and even though he’s probably a fuckload more mature than Gerard, for some things he really does act his age – he doesn’t understand why Gerard can’t move on and go vent, fuck a stranger or save a dog in order to help himself. The universe doesn’t work that way, and Gerard knows it. He’s just pissed at his little brother because he doesn’t know it, too.

Everything suddenly becomes a great deal of trouble for him. Mom asks him to take out the garbage, he whines. Dad asks him to go fetch him a beer from the fridge, he whines. Mikey asks him to change the TV channel because the movie they were watching just ended, he whines. It’s nothing personal, really, Gerard is just really fucking pissed at himself and feels quite miserable when he realizes that the only thing he wants right now is a hug from someone he should be batshit mad at.

He can’t sleep that night, so he gets out of bed, puts on sneakers and walks around the block, smoking, even though he’s already had a whole pack today. As you can probably tell, Gerard is a nervous smoker, and that really doesn’t do well on his budget because he’s always fucking flustered about something. And the idiocy lies in the fact that he doesn’t even fucking care.

He doesn’t care about the way he’s feeling, he doesn’t care about what his family have to say about it, heck, he doesn’t even care if Lindsey thinks it’s okay for him to be mad, the only thing he cares about right now is the nauseous feeling in his stomach he gets when he thinks about the possibility Frank is currently lying in bed and blaming all of this on himself.
There’s really nothing wrong about that, simply because it is Frank’s fault, but that doesn’t prevent Gerard from hating the idea of him being in any pain at all. He feels like a walking paradox, and he really doesn’t understand any of this.

He finds himself walking past Frank’s house and that’s exactly the moment he decides to quit this before he does something he’ll regret. He flicks the butt of his cigarette onto the sidewalk, squishes it with his shoe and hopes no member of his family realized he’s been gone.

*

When Gerard wakes up, he realizes his room reeks heavily. Why? That’s a really good question, which doesn’t get answered until he sees the empty bottle of Jagermeister sitting on his end table. Huh.
And then everything comes flooding inside his brain and he remembers coming home, crying a bit, grabbing the bottle from the liquor cabinet, getting drunk, crying a bit more, vomiting, crying some more and finally falling a sleep, completely exhausted. That explains the headache and the nausea, too, and he really hopes he didn’t get the vomit anywhere on the floor or his sheets.

He quickly gets up and practically stumbles into the bathroom, just to throw up once more, brush his teeth and thoroughly wash the dried tears off his face before taking a piss and deciding with himself that a shower might be a good option. When he’s out of the bathroom, he smells much better than his room, but he really doesn’t feel that way. He makes his way upstairs, where he’s really happy to find no one but Mikey, sitting on the couch in his Hulk pajamas and watching cartoons. “Morning, happy birthday and all that jazz.” He runs over to him and hugs him briefly, and Gerard smiles genuinely for the first time in a couple of days.
He has no idea what the time is, but he guesses it’s past 10am because his mom’s obviously gone to work by now. He’s really grateful to find coffee in the cupboard and for a moment, he feels saved when he takes a sip. And then the doorbell rings and Mikey shoots him a questioning look.
“Lindsey?” He raises an eyebrow.

Gerard just shrugs, leaves his mug on the counter and starts walking towards the hallway to check. When he opens the door, he’s faced with a clusterfuck of mixed feelings that all hurl on him at the same time. “Frank? What are you doing here? And what’s that?” He gestures at the box sitting in Frank’s lap.

Frank shrugs, biting his lip. “Happy birthday. You look like shit. And I feel like it.”

Everything Gerard wanted to say merely a second ago evaporates from his already slightly dim mind, and he looks around frantically to see if there are any cameras to prove he’s been featured in this week’s edition of Punk’d. But no, Frank’s eyes look sincere and the box he’s holding starts jiggling. “What the shit is that?”

“Uh,” Frank starts, still chewing on his lip, “I know I’ve acted like a tool. But it’s not all me. I swear. Bert got me drunk and I didn’t want to admit anything to him, so I just lied and I’m so sorry. I know I should’ve handled it differently but you know I say things I don’t mean when I’m drunk and I’m sorry.”

Gerard sighs, closing his eyes for a second. “That still doesn’t answer my question.”

Frank inhales sharply and seems distracted for a second, but then says, “I thought I’d make our conversation from the other day real. Well, except for the ‘coming into your room and you never seeing him again’ thing.”

Gerard furrows his brow, completely confused. “What the…?”

Frank opens the box. “Mr. Cat, this is Gerard. Gerard, this is Mr. Cat. He’s your birthday present.”

Gerard knows he’s supposed to be angry. He also knows he’s supposed to keep his cool, tell Frank to fuck off with his lame apologies and call him when he gathers the balls to ask him out.
But now he also knows that Frank listens to him, even in the stupidest of occasions, giving importance to his words even if Gerard himself doesn’t and he’s just proved it. And that’s something not even Lindsey does, and that’s something Gerard can’t let go. Simply because everyone thinks of Gerard as the stupid one and everyone treats him that way. Everyone except for Frank.
So, instead of fucking him off, Gerard takes the kitten into his own lap carefully, stroking its head and slightly smiling when it starts purring. Then he motions Frank to follow him inside and closes the door before putting Mr. Cat down.

Frank sighs, “I know you won’t forgive me easily, and I know I’ll have to make it up to you-”

And then he shuts Frank up by giving him a bone-crushing hug. He probably starts crying somewhere in the process, too, he can’t comprehend, but nothing really matters anyway because this is Frank and he did something really, really nice for him, and he’s there, hugging him and nuzzling his face into Gerard’s chest and that’s incredibly comforting for Gerard, even though he has no idea why.

“I’m sorry,” Frank mumbles into Gerard’s shirt, “I’m not afraid of it anymore. I’m not afraid of Bert, of his stupid teasing, of his pranks or his schemes. I’m not, because that doesn’t matter if you’re here.”

And then Gerard really can’t hold it, it’s driving him crazy, and he tilts Frank’s chin upwards and kisses him really, really awkwardly. And when he pulls away, Frank laughs breathily and rolls his eyes. “What, did you forget to kiss or something?”

Gerard’s cheeks turn even redder than they’ve been the entire time they were hugging, “Shut up.”

“Never,” Frank smiles and kisses him again, just because he can. Gerard remembers his coffee mug is on the counter and it’s getting cold, he also knows his little brother’s in the next room and he’s probably heard everything. But at that moment, he just doesn’t care, because everything he’s been pining about for months, years even, is now here in his arms and he can’t seem to brush the happy feeling off. Maybe he doesn’t even want to.

“Gerard, what the shit is this beast doing here?! Call 911!" Mikey shrieks from the living room, and Gerard feels Frank slowly losing it, until he breaks their lips apart just because it’s really hard to kiss and laugh your ass off at the same time.

Notes

The title is obviously Rogue's idea, because she's been bugging me with Dan and Phil references for days. I'm proud to announce it took me less than two hours to write this. It's probably because I had a huge fight with my best friend [it was all my fault so I'm trying to find a distraction from guilttripping myself because I'm lame like that], am currently under a grave coffee buzz and am totally and utterly sleep-deprived.

Wow.
What a healthy life I must be leading.
.blood infections. is my life.

Okay, wow, two updates in a day. I should probs go.

- Milo