25 Reasons Why I Hate You

Frank is slightly intoxicated the whole day. Well, school starts off as “slightly intoxicated“, anyway, but it only messes with his mind a tiny bit. Lindsey does not notice, though, so he figures it's mostly an inner thought drunkenness and not an outer action one.

“So, talk to your beloved one today?” Lindsey sets her tray in front of Frank, waggling her eyebrows. Gerard has actually been trying to talk to Frank for days, but Frank somehow managed to ignore him, and now it was Friday, things never go wrong on Fridays, right?

“He's a friend. Was, anyway,“ he grumbles again and starts seriously considering slamming his head on the table, again. It's becoming sort of a habit of his, thinking about it. He should do it sometime, maybe it will do something cool, like make his brain pour out of his ears. That was on Fringe once, he vaguely recalls, gross yet unbearably awesome.

“So you don't like him anymore?“ Lindsey takes something off of his tray but he doesn't even pay attention- not like he got a lot of things anyway, he doesn't even like the food in this school. Then again, nobody does. He thinks Linda, the lunch lady, does it on purpose. Just looking at her weird mustache makes everything seem gross.

“Don't like him, period. He's like… I hate him, I think.” He doesn't think he hates him; he knows he does. Does Lindsey need to know that? Not in the slightest.

“No way in sweet ass warm-as-fuck Hell. Okay, so let's say you don't like him, theoretically,” she makes a thinking sound and then smirks. “You wouldn't mind if I asked him out, would you then?” Frank freezes and slowly raises his head, glaring at Lindsey who is still smirking, that little tw- he slowly breathes in and out.

“No,” he says slowly, clenching and unclenching his fists under the table, wanting to hit something (someone), “But he's gay, so.”

“Oh, you don't think it's worth a shot? Hm,” she teases in a playful tone. If Frank could think clear, he would realize she was messing with him, but all he could see was red in front of his eyes, “Maybe I could ask him out, and then we would go to a restaurant, and he would drive me home and then when it was time for me to come in the house, I would lean in and-“

Frank rises from the table, sobering up immediately and looking absolutely ready to kick someone's ass but also looking so pale, you'd think he had just saw a ghost. Or had a close look at Linda's greasy mustache. Both of which are equally horrifying experiences.

Lindsey smirks again, stealing Frank's water bottle. “Still claim you don't like him?”

„I seriously do not like him. Maybe in the past, sure, but not after what he did, okay? And don't give me the shit like 'oh but you're ranting simply because you are trying to prove yourself which totally means you are in luuuurve with him' because it's not true, I'm just ranting because you're being a dick, Linds, and being a dick isn't a good look on you, okay? Okay.” And then Lindsey was getting up and walking over to Gerard's table. Well. Talk about pointless talking, huh? Not that Lindsey listened to most of what he said- it was either emo rants, love rants or pointless, ridiculous rants. Sometimes all of them together.

Frank also starts wondering when he got such shitty friends. Like, okay, he sometimes wonders how he even got any friends, and maybe they are not as shitty as they are all extremely obnoxious, stubborn and annoying. Which, you know, obviously he is the exact same. Plus slight anger control issues. But, still. Except Ray. He is not the closest of friends with the guy, but if you ask Frank, the sun shines out of that guy's fucking ass. Probably it is some evil mojo his grandma put on him, but he doesn't want to get too much into that.

He looks over as Lindsey was being very… friendly with Gerard. Just… friendly is the perfect word. She was also stealing his food and he could hear when Gerard laughed that fucking honking laugh that sounded like someone was abusing a goose. Seriously. He hates that guy. So much. That's what he tells himself, anyway.
He sighs and looks over at Linda, who looks bored out of her mind. She catches his stare and smiles politely. Frank puts on a smile (that honestly probably looks like he is constipated) and waits until she turns around, hoping she doesn't see through his very bad acting skills. Then again, what does she know, anyway? She's a 30 year old lunch lady with a mustache that looks like it is (very badly) trying to imitate Tom Selleck's.

-

School goes... fine. Lindsey hangs out with Gerard quite a lot, which is weird. Weirder than usual, anyway: Frank knows Lindsey doesn't have a crush on Gerard. He may not be the most observant guy around, but he knows fake attitude when he sees it; trust him to know, he's been Gerard's friend for sometime, after all.

Frank also gets invited to another one of Ray's parties during Chemistry, and c'mon, who would ever turn down Ray Fro The Smiling Bro? Not Frank, that's for sure. So when Ray asks him, he looks so cheery it looks like his hair might be smiling too, of course he says yes. Frank is not that hard to persuade, especially if it's a close friend that has the hair of a clown, yet is not near as frightening as those fuckers. (So Frank may have a bit of a clown phobia. Who are you to judge, anyway?) Not to mention the fact Ray would have been disappointed if Frank didn't show up. They are close friends anyway.

By the time he realizes Gerard could possibly, maybe, somehow be there (he probably will be, damn Lindsey), it's kind of already too late to back out- he is on the walk over to Ray's house. Besides, if he came back this soon, his mom would ask too many questions. Not that he particularly cares what his mom thinks- he loves her to bits, but this is not a part of him he needs to share with her. Or wants to, anyway.

He is in the middle of trying to figure out who is more trust worthy to spend the night with, Ray or Jamia, a car pulls up next to him. Frank is all but prepared to scream “stranger danger”, when he sees those asshole-ish sunglasses that only fucking Bert would wear at night.
Bert grins that million-dollar winning smile (though he looks like he is on drugs, and knowing the bastard, he could as well be) and takes the cigarette out of his mouth.

“Toro's house? I can give you a ride.” He winks and Frank thinks how much he is going to regret getting into Bert's car that smells like beer and also like something possibly died in it a few days ago, but he does it anyway, because fuck morals, right?

-

Frank is so, so fucked. Even in his drunken state of mind, he knows it.
Firstly, it had only been around half an hour since he got here and he's already had about 7 beers. Not counting the tequila. And the vodka. And Bert's “mysterious alcohol treat”, as he called it.
He also has Jamia sitting on his lap. Well, more like grinding herself down on him and spilling alcohol over everything (not that either of them cares about the destiny of Ray's white sofa), and while he finds her annoying as fuck and doesn't really fancy her that much (not since his dog barked at her, fuck, they always say never to trust people your dog doesn't like), but he is seconds away from popping a boner because Jamia's hips are strangely so fucking similar to Gerard's, fuck. He is so, so fucked, he thinks as he shoves Jamia off of him and she lands on the floor.

Some people start laughing at her confused face and her half unbuttoned shirt as she sits on the floor, looking like she is about to puke her guts out or cry, or maybe both, but Frank is too drunk to care as he runs out of the house in search for fresh air and a break from Jamia's hooker hips.

-

“Frank?” Fuck. If you don't move, he can't see you. If you do not move, he can absolutely not see you. If you just stay freaking still, he will not be able to see you. If you do not fucking move, he will just forget what he was thinking about and you will become invisible. If you j- “You know that just because you're staying still doesn't mean I can't see you, right?” Crap.
He is totally onto him.

“You are totally onto me,” Frank voices the thought before turning around to face Gerard. He is too drunk to argue, too drunk to run away, too drunk to be a pissy bitch, even too drunk to even think about kissing Gerard, which means he is drunk as an Irishman. But, dude, too drunk to be angry? Never. “What do you want?” He asks in a bored voice.

“How drunk are you?” Gerard squints his eyes suspiciously. Frank takes a closer look at Gerard and curses him for being so good looking. Like, it would be so much easier to deal with all of this if Gerard came back looking like fucking Steve Urkel or someone. Someone who Frank does not want to bend over the kitchen counter and fuck blind. Not that he does not want to do that to Steve Urkel. Mind you, Steve Urkel is a actually pretty hot. Him and Stefan alike, only Urkel would probably reach his orgasm, come in Frank's hand, then snort and go ‘Did I do that?’, which is not Frank's favorite way to finish up sexy time. Crap, what was the question again?

“I'd do Steve Urkel,” Frank shrugs and hopes that answers Gerard's question. It seems to, because he nods to himself, and then a little bit more prominently, as if Frank didn't catch it the first time. He internally snorts; he wouldn't have to be that drunk to want to do Steve Urkel. Plenty of people would like a chance with Steve. What does fucking Gerard have against Steve, anyway? Frank bets Steve is way fucking nicer than Gerard.

Probably Steve wouldn't kiss people and then leave two days after that. Fuck Gerard, why can't Frank just date Steve Urkel? He should just contact the producers of Family Matters and have them set the two of them up. ‘Ditchin’ Gee for my babe Steve!’ flashes through his mind before he realizes Gerard is talking.

“…why do they do that anyway? Like, that must be the most exhausting thing ever, you know, and they aren't even...” And then Frank nods lazily along, too exhausted to even fucking tell Gerard he's really not in the mood for talking, just tuning him out and making it seem like he is one hundred percent interested.

Gerard then obviously realizes he is boring Frank, nods to himself again and turns around. He is walking away, slowly, kind of like in slow motion but way less cooler, and clutching the door handle with his hand, and then he turns around, catches Frank's eye, and runs up to him.

Frank barely even forms a coherent thought before Gerard's fucking mouth is on his mouth and the kiss is wet and Gerard's lips are warm and the air around them seems so much colder than it was minutes ago, and he can taste absolutely no alcohol on Gerard so far, but that could be because they are merely touching lips. Frank then realizes what is going on, opening his eyes like a startled dog and if someone was around to see this, he is absolutely sure his eyes would look like they could fly out of their sockets, which, for the record, they were about to if Gerard. Didn't. Pull. Those. Dirty. Fucking. Cheater. Lips. Back. To. Himself.

Notes

So, this is an insight on semi-drunk!Frank's thoughts. And then actually-drunk!Frank's thoughts.

Extremely sorry for the wait, but I hope you guys enjoy this chapter! If you don't mind, would you be kind and copy your favorite part of the chapter into the comments? Would immensely appreciate it.

Rogue