25 Reasons Why I Hate You

His mom doesn’t kill him after all.

Mostly because Gerard saves him from blurting out something like ‘there were ghosts in the house and they threatened to take Gerard if I didn’t allow them to fuck up the curtains’ by saying they were actually just making out on the couch and the cat ruined the poor fucking curtains.
Of course, being a reasonable human being, Linda waves him off, followed by Frank’s astounded face, and offers to make them some waffles [it’s Monday evening and they spent the entire afternoon in the coffee shop with Lindsey and Ville so they are both reasonably hungry, and it’s not like it’s possible for Gerard to turn down waffles anyway, so].

They ran into Jepha outside the coffee shop, actually, who hugged Frank to death and rambled on about how cute he is [much to Gerard’s annoyance, but the poor guy could literally do nothing about it that wasn’t helplessly holding Frank’s hand]. The shit hit the fan when Bert, who was apparently there with Jepha in the first place, strolled out of the café and froze when he realized that Gerard was there standing like a wooden statue of Jesus while awkwardly holding Frank’s hand, who was still chatting with fucking Jepha and hadn’t realized who just walked out of the door.

“Oi, Bertie, you took long enough,” Jepha smiled at him, and Frank’s jaw clenched just as he was about to say something.

“Uh, Frank,” Gerard cleared his throat and pulled at Frank’s hand significantly, “V and Linds are going to kill us for being late.”

Frank started gritting his teeth brutally, but said nothing as he let Gerard drag him into the coffee shop.

And that leaves them here, munching on chocolate-mumbo-jumbo-Linda’s-magical-waffles in Frank’s kitchen.
“Shit, Mrs. Iero, you’re, like, the best cook in the history of… well, cooks, but y’know,” Gerard says with his mouth full of chocolate-mumbo-jumbo-Linda’s-magical-waffles.

“Thank you,” she grins at him, then turns to Frank who’s currently holding his fork up in the air for attention while impatiently chewing on a piece so he can talk sooner.

“I beg to differ,” he finally speaks, “Mom, you should see the way this guy cooks. Well, yeah, you’ll probably starve to death before he finishes one dish, but it’s so worth it.”

Gerard blushes slightly, but ignores his embarrassment and nudges Frank’s side. “Shut up, you know I’d make a perfect wife.”
Frank just rolls his eyes, but smiles anyway, even though he knows his mom is watching them with awe in her eyes.

He really does agree, though- Gerard would make a fucking amazing wife.

*

Seeing Bert all over the hallways is really awkward for Gerard, who, even though he’s really pissed at the guy, rarely acts on his rage. It’s not like he’s too much of a wuss go kick him in the face or something, if provoked, he’s just not really fond of violence.
Frank, on the other hand, is acting like a total time-bomb. Gerard is only wondering when he’s going to explode.

“I can’t stand his presence,” Frank huffs as they both lean onto the cool brick of the wall, smoke twirling from his mouth and into the air.
It’s pretty. Frank’s pretty when he’s serious, and he’s also pretty when he’s smoking. Fuck, he’s always pretty, but this is one of those times Gerard just wishes he had his sketchbook with him so he could draw him and document the moment.

They’re currently ditching first period, on Frank’s request, mostly because they have it with Bert and Frank isn’t in the best of moods today. It’s Friday anyway, and they rarely do anything really useful on Fridays, so it’s not like it really matters.

It’s pretty cold, too, which is kind of unusual for late April, but it’s not that bad so being outside is not a big deal for any of them. Especially for Frank- he’s got Gerard’s jacket, too, since his entire body behaves like a germ magnet whenever the temperature is below 80 and Gerard isn’t going to risk him catching some deadly flu or something.
And dang, the huge leather jacket Gerard inherited from his father looks really, really good on him. And it gives Gerard the tingles simply because it’s a really corny thing that Frank’s wearing his jacket and he adores it.

“What are we gonna’ do, then, kill him?” He says, suddenly craving a cigarette himself. “Can I bum one?”

Frank nods and gets a cig out of the pack and puts it in Gerard’s mouth. “Good idea, we should make it look like suicide,” he mumbles while digging the lighter out of his back pocket. Gerard just rolls his eyes and keeps the stick in place as Frank’s lighting it for him.
“Thanks,” he mutters, glancing at the smoke evaporating from his nostrils. “You have to realize that he is allowed to live, after all. He’s a fucking asshole, he really is, but you have to understand him. He just wants someone who could love him, y’know?”

Frank looks into the distance, squinting his eyes. “I can’t believe you’re justifying-“

“I’m not!” Gerard slightly squeaks. “I’m just saying that he isn’t all bad. No one is.”

Frank just bites down on his lip violently, squishing the butt of his cigarette with the sole of his shoe. He doesn’t look at Gerard for at least three minutes, and then he just shakes his head towards some imaginary dot in the horizon and stands up, about to walk away.

Gerard rushes to his feet and grabs Frank’s hand, preventing him from leaving. “I know it’s hard for you to let it go, babe, I know. But you have to try. The only person this hatred you have for him is doing harm is you.”

Frank is reluctant the first few moments, but then he turns around, looks at Gerard with sad eyes and just wraps his arms around his waist, snuggling his head into his shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

Gerard smiles slightly and runs a hand through his hair while the other one is around his shoulders. “There’s nothing you have to apologize for.”

*

"It’s fucking hot in here," Gerard whines, rolling over to the other side of the bed. They’re currently in Gerard’s room, boiling even though it’s probably like minus seven hundred degrees outside because of the shitty weather. And the reason they’re boiling is because Gerard refused to open the only little window in the entire basement with the excuse that the moist or whatever would ruin all his artwork. So, yeah, it was hot, and not in the good way.
Frank sighs. “Take your hoodie off, then.”

“But I don’t have anything underneath,” Gerard huffs matter-of-factly.

Frank rolls his eyes. “Gee. You’re sitting alone in your room with a guy who thinks you’re hot beyond measurement.”

Gerard tilts his head to the side, weighing his options inside his head. His mom made her special for-Gerard’s-vegetarian-friends-lasagna-with-cheese-only and he ate a lot and his stomach is all bloated now.

So, he can take his shirt off, get laughed at by Frank because he’s fucking fat and run away crying, or he can simply let it stay on and forget this conversation ever happened.
Of course he decides on the second one, because, well, yeah.

“No,” he frowns, and shifts on the bed so his back is facing Frank. Frank sighs and scoots closer, laying a hand on his shoulder.

“Gee… this isn’t about you simply not wanting to take your shirt off, is it?”
Gerard sniffs, even though he isn’t crying and he doesn’t want to cry, it’s just that he knew he’d have to have this conversation with Frank eventually but he still kind of hoped he wouldn’t.
He really hates sharing his body image with anyone, and he once slapped Mikey for calling him handsome. So, yeah. “Gee?”

Now Gerard fucking whimpers and he can’t seem to stop because he all he really just wants right now is to disappear. No, whatever happens, he can’t do this in front of Frank.
He’s the rock, the one walking on solid ground here, he shouldn’t be breaking down - especially not because of a stupidity like this one.

“Baby?”

Frank says it in such a tone that drives Gerard off the edge and he manages to let out a cry. That obviously makes Frank pull him by the shoulder and he realizes that he really is too weak to fight it now, so he just lets Frank see his disgusting crying face.
He doesn’t exactly expect it when Frank hugs him tight and even though it’s a really weird position it actually feels fucking awesome and he’s suddenly enveloped in a weird bandage of comfort or some other corny metaphor shit similar to that.

“Look. I know I’m not really the one to talk about self-esteem and stuff… but I really do think you’re beautiful, okay?”

Gerard just sniffles and buries his head into the crook of Frank’s neck. “It’s all… too much. Too chubby. Too fat.”

Now Frank is the one who’s sucking in a shaky breath and fighting off tears, even though he’s much more successful at that than Gerard. It’s probably genetics or some other shit he never bothered paying attention to in class when the teacher talked about it.

“I… I like having more of you to hold…” to emphasize his words, he hugs him even tighter, leaving Gerard slightly stunned.
“To kiss…” he kisses Gerard’s neck lightly, causing goose bumps to appear all over his skin.
“To touch…” he snakes his hand underneath Gerard’s shirt, gently, and crosses his fingers over the flesh. It is squishy and warm, but it’s soft and cuddly and it’s making Frank slightly more worked up downstairs.
“When I say that I think you’re hot, I’m not talking only about things everyone would find hot if they saw you. I’m not talking only about your eyes or your smile or the way you walk. I’m talking about your thighs, your fucking cute tummy and your cheeks and your arms, too. I’m talking about all of you. Because there’s nothing, and I mean nothing, that I’d change.”

Gerard then looks up at him, slowly lifting his head upwards and meeting his honest eyes and fuck, if he doesn’t love him so much at that moment because Gerard knows how hard for him is to say stuff like that.
But, of course, he won’t tell him that he loves him in those words because he’s a coward, but he will do his best to show it to him.

“I don’t deserve you,” he says and hopes it will sound as meaningful as he tried to word it.
Frank smiles, genuinely and lovely and Gerard can’t stop himself this time even though he really wants to look at that smile a while longer, so he kisses him.

But it’s not like their usual kisses, it’s not hot and messy and needy, it’s sweet and passionate and everything they feel for each other shoved into a single physical action and fucking hell if that isn’t beautiful.
It’s not even something that special, it would look like a normal kiss to anyone watching, but the way Frank’s lips are caressing Gerard’s in such a gentle and loving manner that makes his world spin and his brain stir in his skull and his heart beat like it’s chased by hounds is really turning him insane.

And the irony in all this is probably the fact that Gerard once promised himself he wouldn’t ever again fall so hard and fast like he did with Frank, and now it’s Frank and Frank only on his mind and in his heart and oh, God karma sucks in the best possible way. And the funniest part is that Gerard has had many hookups and relationships, and a lot of sex and all that without Frank, but none of those things seem even remotely pleasing and/or entertaining when compared to a single smile Frank shoots his way.

That night Gerard falls asleep with his head on Frank’s stomach and his arms around his waist, Frank’s fingers in his hair and fluffy thoughts in his head.

And there’s probably nothing that’ll make his mother happier in her entire life than when she enters Gerard’s room at around one am to tell her son he should probably go to bed because she doesn’t want him to die of sleep deprivation and sees him sleeping with his arms around the boy he loves.

*

“Morning,” Gerard yawns and stretches his arms in the air, a satisfied smile on his face as his nose grazes Frank’s.

His lips curve into a smirk and his eyes open, followed by droopy eyelids and a million dollar smile that makes Gerard’s stomach churn and his heart melt. “Morning.”

“Coffee?” He says lowly, his lips brushing Frank’s lightly and his fingers tangling into the hair at the back of his neck.

Frank’s smile spreads wider, and he pecks his lips chastely. “Sure.”

They slowly drag themselves out of bed and up the stairs, greeting Mikey who’s currently sitting on the couch, watching Ninja Turtles and chewing on Gerard’s chocolate chip cookies. He doesn’t mind, Mikey lets him play Mario Kart in his room whenever he pleases, so.

Gerard makes coffee and he and Frank sit at the table, getting pointlessly caught up in some chatter until the phone rings.
Donna comes rushing down the stairs, insisting that she’ll get it since Gerard and Mikey always answer it with ‘you will die in seven days’ and a bunch of other lame shit, so she grabs the phone before Gerard even gets the opportunity to get up.
He rolls his eyes as she’s telephoning and she sticks her tongue at him, Mikey successfully ignoring them and humming along to the Ben 10 theme song. Frank just watches them with amusement, until Donna hangs up the phone and looks at Gerard with her eyes gleaming from excitement.

“Gerard,” she bites her lip, slightly smiling at the telephone she’s still holding in her hand. “You got accepted. It’s real. You’re in.”

“What? Where?” Frank chirps, looking at Gerard who’s just staring at her with wide eyes. Then he looks at Frank, and his expression shifts from stunned to terrified, and Frank senses something is wrong.

“Uh, SVA. I, uh…”

Frank blinks, and then furrows his brow. “Wait, but isn’t that like, in New York?” He looks at Gerard, who just gulps loudly.
“Oh. So, you’re leaving. You… you’re leaving.” He locks eyes with him, and Gerard can swear his heart cracks at the hurt look Frank is giving him. “Again.”

Notes

Hello, deer friends and human friends,

I wanted to poke Gerard with needles in this chapter, because I got poked with needles today [both of my arms hurt like bitches, thanks doc], but you weren't having it because I kinda forgot about that idea and just wrote this. It'd be much more traumatic for him, though, I'm okay with needles. But I'm not okay with unfamiliar liquids being chucked into my body and making parts of it painful. Wow.
Anyway, it's not the best chapter ever, but yeah.

K bye, my arms hurt so much and I can't type any more I'll decompose here or something.

- Milo

P.S. Sherlock and John are boyfriends. No further argument.