Passing Looks and Disappointed Faces

[Gerard's P.O.V.]

"Of course he knows me," Cabel said gruffly, ignoring my attempts at explanation. I rolled my eyes, scoffing as I allowed him to monopolize the conversation; I wasn't about to argue with him over dominance of it. "He comes here almost every day: one of my very best customers. Plus, he's a horrible domino player; can't seem to get the hang of it, poor boy. It's a real hoot playing against him." Frank laughed lightly along with Cabel and I myself laughed sarcastically at the both of them.

"Could we not focus on my domino skills?" I groaned, flicking at a spot on the counter. "How do you know him?" I then asked; Frank wasn't old enough to drink and I had never once seen him at a game.

"Why his grandpa's a good friend of mine; we date back ages. You've played against him: Iero's the name. Right old fellow; one of the best you could ever ask for. Decent man with a good family and a pretty home. I've gone there a couple of times; going there this Saturday as a matter of fact. I'm guessing you two didn't realize any of this until now, huh?" We both shook our heads silently, still somewhat startled by the information that I should know his grandfather; then why hadn't he seemed more familiar? I shrugged to myself; I was usually somewhat drunk by the time of the game so I wouldn't remember. Then how come he didn't know me either?

Deciding not to beat myself up over the fact of our acquaintance, I turned back to Cabel, realizing that I couldn't just stand there in my pajamas all day. "Hand me two beers, James," I said, tearing my gaze from Frank's wondering green eyes. "I've got to go home to change out of these clothes and then I'll be back to pay you."

"You had better," he grumbled good-naturedly, reaching under the counter for his coldest beers, passing two of them over. "You're already on the list for not going to the game; you'd better not just up and leave and not pay me back, you hear?"

"Crystal clear, sir," I smirked, grabbing both frigid bottles. "I'll be back in an hour at most," I called back as I began walking out of the store, trying not to get lost in the shining glass bottles lining either side of me. Once we were outside and a good way away from the store, I handed one of the bottles to Frank, cracking the other open for myself. I hadn't asked him whether or not he liked beer but it was made quite clear when he opened his own bottle, downing a few large gulps immediately. "Not so fast," I warned him as I sipped gently at mine, enjoying the bitter taste that traveled down my throat, smacking my lips at the taste.

"I can't believe it," he whispered softly, holding the bottle loosely in his hand as he walked, the bottle cap held tightly in the other hand.

"Neither can I; I just don't know how I didn't recognize your grandpa and how he didn't recognize me."

"He probably did," Frank shrugged, "He just wouldn't tell you. He's like that." I opened my mouth in a silent 'oh', taking advantage of the moment to take another sip.

"Strange world," I remarked, switching my beer to my other hand, my frigid fingers seeking out his hand as we walked back home. I hoped he memorized where we were going because I really didn't want him to get lost on some other occasion.

"Definitely," he agreed, draining his bottle in a few more gulps, throwing it away in a trashcan situated on the sidewalk. I followed suit, throwing it in after him, hearing as it made a dull clink as it hit against the bottom. I grabbed his hand again, shivering slightly from the cold but refusing to take the jacket back; there was no way in hell I would do that. After a few minutes of wandering the streets, we finally reached my home and his face lit up in a smile as he realized where he was, most likely realizing that there would be warmth inside my home as well. I opened the door as quietly as I could, motioning him inside while pressing a finger to my lips as a gesture for him to remain quiet. He obliged without hesitation, crossing his arms over his chest as he entered. I could have very well crawled through the small window above my bed but I didn't want him to have to suffer through the indignity of such an act.

I tip-toed down to my room, pulling him along behind, closing the door quietly behind me so that no one would notice that I had been gone the entire night. I quickly tossed him the pair of jeans he had left, now cleaned, knowing that it would be warmer than the pair of shorts he had decided to don that cold day. He smiled gratefully, slipping out of his shorts without hesitation, putting on the slightly tight pair of jeans I had thrown at him. I slipped out of my own clothes, putting on an appropriate outfit for the day, rooting through my closet for a good jacket to put on; the day was going to persist being chilly and I wasn't about to walk around without any means of warmth.

He offered me the jacket yet again but I waved him off without offering any explanation, retrieving another beat-up black hoodie from the corner of my rack of clothes. Once I had slipped it on, I pulled him into a hug, needing to feel the warmth of his fragile frame. I motioned to the bed once we had parted, wanting to get some sleep; I was still tired after the events of the night before. I would sleep a while and then when I awoke, I would already be dressed to go out so I didn't have to spend time searching for some clothing. I crawled under the sheets, tousled from the events of the night, motioning Frank to me. He had looked so awkward standing there, shifting his weight from foot to foot, simply watching me as I curled up on the mattress.

At the call, he rapidly made his way towards the bed, slipping out of his untied Chucks before he crawled into the bed, immediately curling next to me. I accepted him in my arms happily, listening to his soft breathing as he settled himself. His hands situated themselves on my chest, fingers gently trailing over the fabric of my clothes. "I'm so sorry," he muttered, pressing his forehead against the crook of my neck, eyelashes fluttering gently against my skin.

"Why are you always so sorry about everything?" But suddenly, the answer became quite clear. This is what that despicable man had done to him; this is what he had reduced him to. And suddenly I felt so guilty; I was pressuring him into things. Was I no different from his supposed friend, the idiot that had taken advantage of him? Hell no, I couldn't be that type of man; I couldn't be that despicable person.

"I fuck up a lot," he muttered, hands trailing down my stomach, pushing up the material of my shirt. With a hiss, I grasped his hand, gripping it tightly within my own fingers. He looked up at me, a perplexed look seizing hold of his pretty features. Oh, boy, please don't. I lowered my gaze from his eyes (those malachite wonders shining in his pretty little sockets. Boy don't make me do something I'll regret), staring down at his hand clutched in mine.

"You don't fuck up a lot," I muttered, mocking him just the slightest bit. He smiled, sadness etched across his face. I released his hand, reaching up my own to run it gently over his skin. Moonlight captured. The soft smile remained on his lips, his eyes downcast to my chest, his hand resuming their insistence on my shirt. "Stop, Frank."

"Why?" he asked, a flare of rage replacing the sadness in his eyes when he looked back at me. Jade tinged with rubies. Brilliant red fury.

"Don't get mad at me, Frank," I warned him, hand falling limp on his cheek. "Just...Let's just go to sleep." I closed my eyes, giving him the hint to do so as well, trying to ignore the way he obstinately continued to try to push up my shirt. "Frank," I warned, cracking open one eye to peer at him. He was hopelessly and stubbornly focused on his task, the tip of his tongue poking out of his mouth, brows furrowed. I repeated his name, reaching out a hand to push away his wandering fingers.

"Gerard," he whined, looking back at me, taking his hands away and turning onto his side, away from me. I sighed, wrapping an arm around his midriff, pulling his body to mine, pressing a kiss to the back of his neck.

"Stop being so stubborn. I'm tired, Frank; I've barely gotten any sleep. Could you just stay still for a while, for me, please?" He shifted fretfully before settling down, remaining still. I sighed again, pressing my lips against the back of his neck again in the hopes of calming him down. My eyes were dry and heavy and I wanted to just sleep for a while until I could regain my strength before going out on those errands. I let my eyes close, feeling at peace with his warm body so near, his fragile chest rising and falling with each breath he took.

"Gee?" his voice broke the silence. I grunted noncommittally, already beginning to slip into the welcoming abyss of sleep. He sighed softly, the bed springs creaking as he began moving again, this time adjusting himself so that he was on his side facing me. A small smile curved my lips as I clutched the fabric of the jacket, pulling him closer to me, pressing him against my body. He sighed softly again, leaning his forehead against mine, eyes fluttering closed gently as did mine. "Thank you," he whispered softly, fingers sliding under the fabric of my shirt again, gently running over the skin.

I brushed aside his gratitude, hunching my shoulders as I brought him closer to me. "No need," I whispered softly, keeping my eyes closed, feeling his fingers dance lightly over my side. "Just go to sleep." He sighed softly, his soft lips pressing against mine for a few seconds before he pulled away, hand now splayed palm-flat over my skin. It was only a matter of minutes before I fell asleep, exhaustion finally overtaking me enough to allow it to occur.

I never heard his whispered words, never felt his soft lips as they murmured against my skin, "I'm not going to let you suffer through the trial. You won't need to worry about me for much longer."