3 : 28

3: 28
Frerard
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In the daytime Gerard always found himself bored with work—it never excited him as much as it used to, he blamed the lackluster effect on Frank as the man showed him a life so much different than his. It only seemed fair to him that he became jaded by the day as his obsession with the night grew the more and more he recollected Frank.

Reality became such a trivial word in his mind—the night had warped the word into something relative to one’s own perspective. And in Gerard’s perspective, reality was subjective as in his own sense of reality the closest he got to anything making sense was exactly 3: 28 AM. That was his closest sense of a reality he could accept.

Daytime was an excuse for him to be jaded and self-loathing, and to be unacceptable of the unrequited love that thirsted to be satisfied. But there was only one person that could satisfy it and he was just a memory now…

When the night risen as the day fell silent, Gerard felt a weight lift off his shoulders sitting in his office chair the clock ticking in the background. It was another night spent pondering the memories he had of Frank—whatever was left of the man in Gerard’s eyes. Gerard opened a new pack of cigarettes and lit himself a smoke, his hand shaking, he felt like a hapless fool for believing in Frank’s words.

He recalled how easy it was to get lost in the man’s words—he had a way with them that was far beyond profound but rather enticing to anyone that listened. Gerard admitted, he loved listening to Frank anything the man said struck one cord or another on his heartstrings.

Frank always managed to get under his skin in a way that Gerard never wanted him to leave. He blamed it on Frank’s touch and his way with words… Perhaps Gerard figured, he was drunk off the man and that’s what made him so foolish back then.

Gerard closed his eyes, it nearly hurt him to do so because the memories were inexplicably breaking him upon the recollection of his own foolishness.

They shared ravage kisses as their teeth clashed against one another—the heat was always a turn-off for Gerard, he hated feeling as if he was on fire with the burning sensation from both intercourse and the friction of their skin against each other. It didn’t matter at this point, they were far too close to their peaks of ecstasy. Gerard just couldn’t stand how hot he felt, but he knew the heat was negligible as the pleasure did a good job of masking his personal discomfort.

The first round of intimacy was always coarse, getting the tension out of the way before the real affection would show. It was rather a paradox between the first round and the rest of them—it was fucking their brains out until they grew tired enough to really press up against each other and become lovers. Gerard would always be the one clinging desperately to Frank, hoping if he was possessive enough the man would never leave him.

Gerard’s hands were always shaky after the first round, Frank drove him wild, and he could never think clearly when he was in bed with Frank.

“… Frank,” saying the man’s name always burned his lips and left a bitter taste in his mouth.
They had only came three times, that was nothing to them—it was only the start to their night.

The sweat made his hair stick to his forehead and his palms became just as sweaty, it glistened momentarily, the quick afterglow of what they considered a first round.

“Yes?”

“What is your biggest secret?”

“Odd time to ask…”

“Are you trying to avoid it?” Gerard poked as he observed Frank’s eyes light up.

“No… just not used to multitasking like this…” Frank chuckled playfully as his fingers traced the lining of Gerard’s left hip.

Frank licked his lips, chewing on his lip ring then avoiding Gerard’s gaze to stare at the older man’s supple white skin. Gerard watched in curiosity, awaiting the man’s answer to his question.

Gerard rolled his eyes at Frank’s obvious attempt to avoid his question, “Well, what is it? You must have one. Something you haven’t told anyone.”

Frank changes position to hover over Gerard, both of them watching each other carefully. Gerard gulped at the intensity in Frank’s eyes as he moved his lips.

“Love—I’ve probably never told anyone I love them.”

Gerard laughed, “Really? Never? Not even your parents?”

Frank half-smiled, “Never. It’s a heavy word that gets thrown around far too much.” He leaned closer, “I’m slowly changing my mind though.”

Gerard bit his bottom lip, Frank was baiting him to ask the question that always bore a hole in his mind.

Gerard gulped, the tension building up and that uncomfortable feeling stirred in him, temptation beckoned him to ask even though his heart was begging him to withhold his dangerous question.

“… Do you love me, Frank?” he asks, his eyes momentarily shifting to the nagging clock on the wall as it ticked with the time 3: 27 AM.

For a whole minute Frank did not utter a word, he fell silent and just when Gerard’s heart sunk to a point he wasn’t sure he could breath—Frank spoke…

“I do love you, Gerard.” Frank admitted carefully.

Gerard’s eyes drifted from the clock that now had 3: 28 AM, into Frank’s eyes and he became lost in them.

Gerard opened his eyes, the heat burned his face and the tears that beaded down were nothing compared to the ache in his heart—was it all just a trick?

He turned his head to the clock as it ticked with its annoyance to the exact time of 3: 28 AM.


- 1

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