Surrender The Night (Frerard)

"So when do you next see your fake boyfriend?" Gerard asked, leaning back against Frank's bedroom wall and sighing contentedly. Frank's Mother had been called in to cover an afternoon shift at the 7/11 store she worked in, leaving the house free for Gerard and Frank's use. Gerard had never been to Frank's house before— it had always been Gerard's house that was the go-to house, and Frank felt mildly guilty about that. It was only fair, he decided, that Gerard get to see where he lived, and what better time than when his Mother was away.

"Um… Saturday I think? He's coming to see Ray and I play; we have a gig. Did I tell you that? No— I don't think I did. Well, we have a gig. On Saturday. And Brendon is coming to see us play. Because, y'know, he's my fake boyfriend." Frank said, losing control of his brain-to-mouth filter and dropping painfully obvious hints about what he wanted Gerard to be doing on Saturday night. Gerard, infuriatingly, either wasn't getting the hints or didn't want to go to Frank's show tomorrow.

"Oh," Gerard said, chewing his lip. "Well. That sounds cool. Like, yeah. That'll be fun."

Frank frowned; he knew he shouldn't expect anything from Gerard. The guy was an adult - he had a nine-to-four-thirty job - and Frank definitely shouldn't expect him to do anything. He was lucky to even be able to hang out with the man, let alone be his boyfriend, and asking him to go to Frank's boring, punk rock shows would be sure to scare the guy off. Only…

Only Frank wanted Gerard to come see him play. Frank wanted Gerard to be there and tell him he was great at guitar even if he was terrible and tell him he looked hot on stage even if he looked sweaty and red-faced and gross. He wanted Gerard to do all the things boyfriends were supposed to do— Brendon wasn't Frank's boyfriend and he still managed to show up at one of his shows! And Gerard had said he didn't have any plans tonight…

"You should come." Frank blurted out before he could stop himself. All he could think about was he and Gerard not being able to go out in public, having to hide their relationship. It was making him sick. "It would be like a date, y'know? You can't get in trouble for going to a bar, and it's only polite to talk to someone you know, right?"

Gerard sighed loudly, showing his displeasure at the idea. Frank's spirits sank further; he knew he shouldn't have asked.

"Frankie, we don't need to go on dates to be in a relationship. You know that, right?"

Frank bristled. "Of course I know that."

"Good! That's good, because I know a lot of kids these days think you have to go on dates to prove "affection" or some shit like that and I know it's dumb— I'm just glad you know that's dumb." Gerard turned to face Frank as he finished and smiled happily, as though he truly thought what he said didn't affect Frank in the slightest.

Frank couldn't seem to move on from the words, "a lot of kids" and, "dumb". Gerard thought he was a kid and that something Frank wanted to do was dumb. If the teenager wasn't so outraged and fucking angry, he might even allow himself to be upset for a minute.

"So you think dates are dumb now?" Frank accused, shifting away from Gerard just slightly. It was childish and immature and really not helping him prove Gerard wrong about him being a "kid", but there wasn't much else he could do save getting up and walking away, and he didn't want to do that just yet. He wanted to see what his boyfriend - his real boyfriend - would say next.

"What?" Gerard's eyebrows furrowed in confusion and Frank cursed himself for finding that unbearably adorable.

"You think my shows are dumb? You don't wanna come because you think they're dumb and— and that I'm just some dumb kid? Is that what you think?"

"Frankie no, that's not—"

"Don't call me Frankie when I'm mad at you!" Frank growled, finally standing up and walking to his bedside table and switching on his phone. Gerard stood up and followed him, attempting to wrap his arms around Frank's middle in a backwards hug. Frank wrestled out of the embrace and went to stand by the door, opening in moodily.

"You should probably go. You probably have places to be that aren't dumb or childish, right? I wouldn't want to keep you."

Frank was staring at the wall opposite, refusing to let himself look at Gerard. He had convinced himself Gerard would never make him feel inferior - like a child or like he was less mature or intelligent due to his age - and yet here he was calling Frank's desire to go on dates with his boyfriend dumb and childish.

Frank felt tears well up behind his eyes and swallowed the lump in his throat, refusing to let himself cry in front of Gerard. It was bad enough that the man thought he shouldn't be childish— it would be worse if he thought he was.

"Frank, please just hear me out. I didn't mean mean it like that!" Gerard argued, but to Frank he didn't sound sincere or apologetic at all. He sounded irritated, as if he were annoyed that Frank was really upset about this. It was as though he thought Frank were making a big deal out of this when he should have just accepted it and been fine with having to be what Gerard wanted him to be.

Hell, maybe Frank was blowing this out of proportion - after all, he knew Gerard wouldn't really want to hurt him - but he was still hurt and upset and all he wanted to do was let out his frustrations on stage. The gig was at eight or nine - he couldn't remember exactly what Ray had said - but it didn't matter. He could easily practise in Ray's garage and if Bob was available they could practise beforehand.

"You ought to leave anyway," Frank said in a clipped, cold voice. "I said I'd practise with Ray before we played."

Gerard sighed, but didn't object. That was all Frank could focus on: he didn't object.

"Okay," the man replied. "I'll see you later, though. Be good." He strode confidently over to where Frank was standing, took his face in his hands and planted a firm kiss on the boy's mouth, leaving Frank dizzy and disorientated, but also disappointed with himself. He was supposed to be angry with his boyfriend, yet he couldn't stop from swooning when the guy so much as kissed him. He was pathetic, really.

As soon as Frank heard the front door shut, signifying Gerard leaving, Frank lunged for his phone and typed out a message to Brendon.

To Brendon: You're still coming tonight, right?? Bring your fake ID, we're gonna get fucked up.

***

The show was not their best, but it was also not their worst. The club was small, but the size didn't impact how many people managed to cram onto the dance floor. They were mostly kids; teenagers and adults in their early twenties, all screaming and laughing and trying to sing along even though they didn't have a clue what the lyrics were. The atmosphere was intense AN said Frank was giving it his all, pouring his heart and soul out through his guitar and microphone.

He could see Brendon at the back of the club, nursing a beer - the first one he'd got since he came in, and it was only half drunk - looking distinctly awkward and uncomfortable. He obviously didn't want to be there, but he was Frank's fake boyfriend, and consequently he was there for Frank. Because Frank wanted him to be.

He would be a great boyfriend, Frank thought drunkenly as Ray rounded off their last song for the night with a killer guitar solo. So maybe he'd had a few pre-show drinks, and maybe he was a tiny bit wasted, but the haze around the edges of his vision have him the extra burst of confidence he needed to get up on stage and perform.

He helped Ray and Bob pack up the equipment and allowed himself to be led off stage by the club manager who swiftly introduced the next group playing. He agreed with them halfheartedly when they enthused about how eat the crowd had been and how if they kept getting shows like this, it would help them get noticed by a record label for sure, but his mind was on Gerard. Gerard, who didn't want to come to his show or go on dates with him because he thought they were childish and dumb.

Fuck him, Frank thought angrily, you have a wonderful fake boyfriend waiting for you and some awesome friends and you need to get shit faced pretty soon or you're going to end up being the designated driver. Even though you can't even drive!

Okay, so maybe Frank was a little more drunk than he first thought.

He pushed past Bob, who grumbled at him loudly, to get to the main floor of the club and to Brendon who was dangerously close to a leering, middle-aged man with a balding head and a grossly obvious hard on. Frank stepped in between them quickly, and grabbed Brendon's hand enthusiastically, leading him away like the good, protective fake boyfriend he was supposed to be.

"What did you think?" Frank grinned, not letting go of Brendon's hand. Frank's phone chimed, but he paid no attention to it. It was probably Gerard begging for forgiveness or something like that. Frank wasn't going to forgive him though… well, maybe if he sent enough pleading messages…

"You were great! Seriously, you guys have got something good there; it's only a matter of time before you get signed."

"Aww, you're too nice Brendon!" Frank slurred, giggling at the end of his sentence. "I need more beer."

Frank stepped away from Brendon and closer to the bar, hoping that by having already performed, he wouldn't need his (fake) ID, because he was pretty sure he'd fumble and drop it and then have to go through the whole troubling process of getting a new one.

"I'll be back," Frank promised, not waiting for a reply before shoving his way through the crowd to get to the bar. He ordered a beer and pulled out his phone, seeing he had two texts, and clicked on them, just to see who they were from. Hoping it was Gerard. It wasn't though.
Neither of them were.

From Mikey: Hey dude, are you running late or something? I'm at the park.

From Mikey: Are you still coming? I'm gonna go home soon.

Mikey? Who was Mikey? Why was he supposed to be meeting him? Why couldn't he remember anything?!

Cursing his drunk brain, Frank allowed himself to be disappointed. His boyfriend hadn't texted him, hadn't even tried to apologise after he'd left Frank's house, and here was Frank in an awesome club with all his friends with him, getting upset over some guy.

Fuck him, Frank thought again, shaking his head and bouncing back over to where Brendon was standing, now with Ray and Bob close by. Before he could think about what he was doing, Frank had grabbed Brendon's arm and yanked the boy towards him, smashing their lips together. It was brief and unexciting - unlike when he kissed Gerard - and Brendon pulled away pretty quickly, looking surprised and slightly afraid.

"Frank," he stammered, leaning closer to him so Ray and Bob couldn't hear what they were saying. "I'd prefer it if you didn't kiss me. Okay? I don't know exactly what the rules are of our… relationship, but— hugs and holding hands and shit, that's fine but. But I'd prefer it if you didn't kiss me, alright? Frank? Can you even hear me, Frank?!"

Frank could hear him. Suddenly, he could hear everything. He could hear the tinkling of glass as the bartender rinsed out a used glass, could hear Ray and Bob argue on which was better: Star Wars or Star Trek, could hear the creepy, balding guy trying to hit on some other poor, unsuspecting guy; he could even hear the door being opened and shut, and a shame he turned to see who was leaving, he caught a glimpse of the back of a head full of thick, black hair and a flash of pale skin.

Notes

Sorry this took so long to write: I got super invested in a series called Eyewitness (which you should check out!! 9/10c on Sundays on USA Network or watch it on demand or online or whatever, just go spread the Philip/Lukas love!) and I lost the will to write for a little while, but hopefully you all enjoy this chapter!
Enjoy! <3