It's Not a Fashion Statement

franks pov
“S’cute, so, so cute little Frankie,”
Gerard mumbles, watching me with adoring eyes whilst twirling my hair between his fingers, as I snuggle closer into him, leaning my head against his warm chest and slipping my eyes shut. We’ve been sitting on this sofa for hours now, just cuddled up to each other, watching movies and eating popcorn, ever since Mikey left really. We only have a few more free days left until it’s back to work, and we’re trying to make the most out of just being able to relax and do nothing.
“s’pretty… what did I ever do to deserve you?” I hear him mumble, which makes me smile and blush. I’m pretty sure it’s the other way around, though.

I hum in approval as his hands move around my hips and he squeezes, massaging my torso then travelling up my back.
“Mhm, gee, you’re too good-“ I sigh, then accidentally let out a breathy moan, as I tilt my head back to lean onto his shoulder. He continues massaging me with his big, warm hands, as he gently joins his lips to mine, kissing me gently, no tongue, but still enough to send my heart pulsating out of my chest.
His hands move around my stomach and to the large scar with the stitches in, as he gently avoids the area and moves his hands back to my shoulders.
He pulls away, finishing off rubbing my back and spinning me around, so that we’re both sat cross-legged on the sofa, facing each other.
I watch his eyes scan over my face, lingering on every feature for a few seconds until he moves to the next, then going all the way down my body until his amber and green eyes meet my bandaged wrist.
“How is it?” he asks, obviously talking about my wrist.
“It’s alright. It still hurts a bit, and it was kind of hard to shower with, but I can just slide the cast off now when I get a shower… even though it’s sill a struggle washing my hair properly.” I sigh, then sliding the cast off to show him my swollen wrist. I wince when I try to move it, as it has obviously not yet healed. I guess I did only break it about two weeks ago… I should probably keep the cast on. It’s just so irritating and heavy and always ‘there’, annoying me and reminding me of what happened, which makes me feel sick just thinking about it. Not to mention, my stomach still hurts, I had to get a fucking operation for that shit. Plus, the scar is so ugly and I hate it. I look back at my wrist and gulp, the mixture of purple and brown around the now only slightly bent shape makes me cringe.
Gerard takes it in his hand and he examines it, his face probably more pained than my own.
“God, baby, it looks so painful,” he sighs sympathetically, gently dropping it back onto my lap, and sliding my cast back on, as he then gently graces his fingers over the scar on my stomach. I wince and immediately, he pulls his hand away, then suddenly bursting into tears.


“Gee, what’s wrong? I’m fine, see?” I smile, as he tries to smile back, but I can tell it’s hard for him. It isn’t a forced smile, though; it’s more like a sympathetic smile, actually more like an ‘I’m so sorry’ smile. It’s hard to explain, but whatever it is, it hurts my heart.

His eyes glisten with tears, the green flecks now highly pigmented and shiny, as a tear trickles down his cheek. He’s still smiling though, only a small smile, but he’s trying to keep it there so that he doesn’t completely break down.
“I hate how you had to go through all of… this,” he gestures to my hand and stomach, sniffing, “all because of me being a drunk, star-struck idiot,”

The tears start to roll down his face quicker, as he wipes his eyes and hangs his head in shame; just letting the tears silently drip from his eyes and onto his lap.
“I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry,”
It hurts to watch him taking in all the blame; it pains me to watch his silent crying. I bite my lip to try and stop the tears from flooding out of my own eyes, as I furrow my eyebrows and squeeze my eyes shut, trying not to think about the silent sobbing coming from Gerard.
Instead I wrap my arms around him, gripping him as tight as I possibly can, holding his shaking body in mine.
“Gee, it wasn’t your fault,” I shush him, combing my hand through his hair.
“It was… I could’ve prevented it… fuck, you deserve someone so much better than me-“
He shakes again, bursting into more tears, pulling away from my grip and standing up, pacing the room and pulling at his hair so hard I’m generally concerned he’s going to literally tear it out of his head.
He smacks himself hard in the face, which you might as well just hit me 100 times over with a shovel in the face, because that's the equivalent pain of watching him do it to himself. He wraps his arms around his own body, looking up with his sad eyes to meet mine, when he then sobs out again, watching me with caution and his hands shaking.
"Frankie I can't- I'm sorry-"
He bolts out of the door, tears streaming down his face. Immediately, I run after him, following him outside into the cold rain and gloom.
He's leaning his forehead against the wall, trying to regulate his breathing, but he isn't doing a very good job with it. Turning around and sliding down it, he curls up into his knees, sobbing and shaking whilst the heavy downpour soaks his hair through, wetting his clothes and face, mixing in with the tears.

Notes

i'll post another in a bit, im awfully sorry with the lack of updates, i've just not been too great. i honestly enjoy writing this, and i'm not giving up, i'm just feeling so done at the moment i don't even know what to do with my life anymore.
right okay but anyway yeah... the next chapter will be much longer, i promise :))
please dont give up on this or abandon reading it, i promise ill try to update once a day again, tahnk you everyone for all the support too, every comment makes me so much more confident and idk just generally happy, and i love you all for that :)