I Can Transform You

POV: Gerard

I was fast asleep when the sound of heavy moaning infiltrated my brain and my eyes abruptly snapped open. The light that was spilling out from behind the curtains told me that morning was here, but seriously, it couldn’t have been much later than 8am. Who the fuck was moaning at this ungodly hour?

At first I thought it was Frank, and I’d be lying if I said that thought didn’t get me feeling pretty goddamn hot under the collar. The images I was envisioning of Frank were blowing a fuse in my brain and the heat was spreading like wildfire, but then I heard a second person moaning – this one a woman – followed by a deep, groggy voice beside me muttering, “Man, those people are really going at it.” That distinguished the fire inside me, leaving only my cheeks burning.

I remained where I was, lying on my side with my back to Frank, waiting for my face to return to a normal colour. This wasn’t the position I fell asleep in, but I had a tendency to move a lot in my sleep. Some nights I’d wake up at the bottom of my bed with my pillows on the floor. I was pretty out of control at night when I was dead to the world.

“Jesus,” I groaned, when the sound of a headboard slamming against the wall in the room directly above us attacked my eardrums. The ceiling was practically shaking. “Who even has the energy for that at this time in the morning?” I was pretty much mumbling into my pillow and just making a throwaway comment, not really aiming for an answer, but Frank responded immediately.

“You telling me you’ve never woken up with morning wood?” he smirked, making me blush harder.

Of course I’d experienced the inconvenience of morning wood. Fuck it, I was a teenage boy and a virgin, it happened pretty much every shitting morning. And yeah, okay, I definitely had the energy to get myself off, most of the time.

I groaned again and pushed my face into the pillow, feeling like my cheeks were on fire. WHY was I blushing so much? Last time I checked, I wasn’t a nine year-old girl.

“Hey, turn around, you fucker,” Frank commanded, pulling insistently on my shoulder. Despite wanting to stay exactly where I was, I wasn’t strong enough to fight against him, and next thing I knew, I was flat on my back and he was staring down at me, propped up on his elbow.

Of course it took him no time at all to notice my discoloured face.

“Are you blushing?” he demanded, half-frowning, half-smirking, which hello, wasn’t exactly helping me feel less embarrassed. Suddenly, his teasing expression transformed to one of alarm. “Oh -” his eyebrows shot upwards and his eyes darted down my body, which was hidden under the duvet, but it was perfectly clear what he was looking at. “Are you - hard right now?”

“What? No!” I choked out, sitting up straighter and looking at him with a somewhat mortified expression.

He recoiled slightly with my strong outburst and held his hands up in surrender.

“Alright, alright, I was just checking.” I glared at him and he tried to glare back, but he couldn’t keep the grin off his face. And then, he suddenly reached out a hand to pet my face, like he was trying to cool me down and stop me blushing to furiously. His hand felt nice and cold against my burning cheek, but I didn’t appreciate his patronising demeanour, and I stubbornly flinched away from his touch.

He looked a little offended, his grin fading, and his eyes narrowing and searching mine for a reason for my lack of cooperation.

“Okay, seriously, what are you dying over?”

I shook my head and closed my eyes, still refusing to cooperate with him. I was kind of too embarrassed to look him in the eye as my brain replayed the series of dirty thoughts and mental images I’d had of him. The more I tried not to focus on them, the more my brain fucking teased me with them. And the increasingly loud sex noises coming from above were NOT HELPING, okay. My male teenage hormones were going fucking crazy.

“Gerard, come on,” Frank whined, and my chest tightened as he suddenly rested his hand on it, feeling my heart pounding hard underneath his fingers. “You know you can talk to me.”

My eyes rolled into the back of my head before I finally blinked them open, finding him hovering above me again, staring curiously down at me.

“What’s it like?” I blurted out, without really meaning to. It was like a thought that had escaped my mouth before I could catch it. And I kind of wanted the ground to swallow me up there and then, but I also wanted to stick around long enough to know the answer.

Frank stared at me with the same uncertain expression.

“Uhh… what?”

I should have stopped talking there, while he had no idea what I was referring to and I could keep what dignity I had left. But somehow it just kept coming out, like word vomit.

“Sex,” I mumbled, in a state of disbelief at myself for actually saying this shit out loud. "What's it like?"

Frank seemed just as taken aback as me, eyebrows raising considerably and eyes darting back and forth a few times. He looked torn between laughing and taking my question seriously. But I was looking for a serious answer right now, so if did laugh at me, I would punch him in the face.

“Oh.” He hesitated, furrowing his eyebrows and staring at me with the same uncertainty. “Really? You wanna have that conversation?” He didn’t look horrified by the idea or anything, just confused, really. Like, what even WAS this conversation? I was acting like an awkward eleven year-old child who was asking their parents for the first time what sex was.

I mean, obviously I knew the basics, I wasn’t stupid. I’d just never spoken to anyone about what it was like, and I’d also never put what I know into action. I was completely fucking inexperienced.

“Yeah… well, I’ve never had a friend I can talk to about this before,” I explained, and I was literally so far past the line of embarrassment now, I was practically immune to it. “I mean, c’mon, Bob and Ray are bigger virgins than me… Asking them about sex would be like asking my dad about giving birth, y’know?”

It’s pointless. I need someone with experience on the subject. And hell, I knew Frank had experience in this.

“Oh man,” he giggled slightly, then looked down at me one more time, before shrugging and flopping back down onto the bed, breaking the eye contact and sliding his hand off my chest in the process. “What do you wanna know?”

Christ, what DID I want to know? Hell, why was I even insisting on having this conversation? Was I secretly hoping Frank would show me rather than tell me? Perhaps…

“I don’t know, just…” I shrugged awkwardly, staring intently at the ceiling, “Is it, uh, as awesome as everyone says it is?”

What kind of question is that? Ugh, I loathe myself…

“Um… I guess, yeah,” he nodded slowly, just as a particularly loud moan suddenly came from above, answering my question better than him. He giggled again, seeming to find the awkwardness of the situation kind of funny.

“So, how many girls have you actually slept with?” I blurted out, my curiosity getting the better of me.

“Oh, come on,” he groaned, glancing sideways at me. “You don’t wanna know that.”

“Then why did I ask?” I cocked an eyebrow, returning the stare and smirking slightly. “Go on, I’m not gonna judge you or anything.” Who the hell am I to judge right now? “Unless - Jesus, it’s not like twenty, is it?”

Okay, I can’t promise I won’t be somewhat disapproving if that’s the case…

“Twenty?” he repeated, screwing his face up in dismay. “Christ, Gerard. D’you think I am some kind of slut?”

“Well… yeah,” I shrugged and grinned at him teasingly and his jaw dropped in evident offense. “I’m joking!” I shoved him playfully, wiping away all signs of outrage on his face. “But you were the most popular kid in school… Let’s be real here, every girl wanted to fuck you.”

It was something I had always envied Frank for; his high sex appeal to girls. Which was weird, because I’d never really been attracted to many girls… but I used to wish they would take notice of me anyway. I just wanted to find someone special to lose my virginity to.

And after all these years, I had finally found that special someone… But I didn’t want to rush this and freak him out. It didn’t need to happen now – I was quite content being intimate with him in other ways, like talking about this kind of personal stuff.

“That doesn’t mean I let them!” he exclaimed defensively, definitely insulted by me thinking of him as promiscuous. “I know I seem like a guy that thinks with his dick more than his brain, but I’m not, okay? I only sleep with people who really mean something to me.”

His little rant and explanation of his morals was making me want him even more. God, he was more like me than I thought; he just wanted someone special to be with too.

“If you must know, I’ve slept with four girls,” he added in a low voice, finally giving in to me and answering my question.

Wow, okay. That's not as many as I was expecting, so... good.

We were quiet for a while, but the couple in the room above us were getting increasingly louder. Were they not aware of the fact that these rooms were practically separated by paper? Jesus.

Eventually, I turned to Frank again.

“Do you think I’m a loser for being a virgin?”

My question caught him off-guard again; I think he thought (and was hoping) the conversation was over. It wasn’t. He snapped his head back to face me, his eyes studying my vulnerable expression. Then, he gave me a sympathetic half-smile, which made me fucking blush again. I didn’t need his pity.

“No,” he answered after a relatively discouraging silence.

I narrowed my eyes slightly.

“Don’t lie.”

He had made fun of me in the past over this. I knew his feelings on the subject perfectly well. He should just say it – I’m a loser.

“I’m not,” he frowned at me, but then he sighed and said, “I know I took the piss out of you for it in the past, but I actually admire you. I mean, I think it's cool that you’re just waiting for the right person, instead of shamelessly throwing your virginity away.”

Well, I appreciated him trying to be nice about it, but we both knew that was not really the case…

“Oh, please. You and I both know if anyone had ever wanted me, I would have had no shame in throwing it away,” I retorted bluntly, refusing to meet his gaze, but I could see him watching me, out of the corner of my eye. “But girls have never looked at me in that way… or in any way… I think I’m just un-fuckable in everyone’s eyes.”

I mean seriously. People just don’t look at me in that way.

I made the mistake of glancing at Frank after saying that, and I was shocked to find a kind of fire in his eyes. It was a flame that burned right through me, setting my heart and everything else inside me on fire.

“No, you’re not,” he assured me, his eyes flickering downwards, studying my body closely (and making my heart kick into overdrive), before snapping back up to my face. Then, he cleared his throat and averted his gaze to the wall, like he was embarrassed.

So… he thinks I’m fuckable, huh?

Before I could let myself get too excited, I wanted to know exactly what he meant by that comment.

“Aren’t I?” I enquired innocently, before swallowing hard and adding in a low voice, “Would you…?”

His eyes widened slightly and suddenly I wasn’t the only one who was blushing.

“Gerard…” he spoke in a kind of warning voice, trying to be forceful about it, but I noticed the way he gulped nervously.

“Sorry,” I said quickly, but I had no intention of letting up. “I’m just… curious.” Very, very curious... “Do you think of me in that way?” Or does it freak you out?

I knew he liked me, but I didn’t know if he ever wanted to be with me, you know, like that…

“Oh man," he breathed, furrowing his eyebrows in thought. "Well… here’s the thing, okay… uh...” He seemed to be struggling to find the right words, and he also seemed unable to look me in the eye right now. “I do like you, obviously… But I don’t – fuck, even if I wanted to – I don’t know a goddamn thing about sex with guys.”

He looked ashamed of himself for feeling this way – for being scared about the unknown – but it was nothing to be ashamed of. It was completely natural. I felt the exact same way, but I knew it was something we could overcome.

“Well, neither do I… but we can always learn,” I pointed out suggestively, being overly-forward and evidently freaking him out.

His whole body stiffened as I placed my hand on his chest, doing what he did to me a minute ago and feeling his heart going crazy under my touch, but he didn’t make a sound. Even when my hand slowly began to slide down his torso, until it reached his stomach, and my fingertips were tracing over his rock-hard abs that were hidden under the shirt he was wearing… (Good God, I knew he was in good shape, but Jesus, a six-pack? Remind me never to take off my shirt around him.)

My eyes were focused on his face, watching for signs of objection, and his eyes were focused on my hand, watching it move lower and lower down his body. His mouth was parted slightly and when I went past the hem of his shirt and hovered just above his crotch, I heard his breath hitch in his throat, and my hand froze.

“Can I…?” I asked quietly, needing his permission to take this any further. He wasn’t exactly doing anything to stop me, but I couldn’t do this without knowing he was up for it.

“I – you shouldn’t,” he protested weakly, his eyes watching fixatedly as I traced my finger over his batman belt buckle (which was the coolest fucking thing ever, by the way). He didn’t sound at all like he meant it, but I was still determined to hear him tell me it was okay.

“But I want to,” I told him boldly, managing to steal his focus for a second and hold eye contact. He still looked nervous, but I could see the fire in his eyes was now burning with increased desire. “Do you want me to?”

Come on, just say the word, Frankie…

“I don’t know, Gee…” he replied slowly, still putting up a fight.

I tried not to get frustrated, but my patience was wearing thin. If he said no, I would understand… But he wasn’t saying yes OR no, he was just being indecisive. I was seconds away from just making the decision for him (which I think was what he secretly wanted me to do).

“We’re not – you know. Dating,” he managed to add in a small voice, “We’re meant to be just friends…”

Okay, he really did have morals when it came to sex, and I respected that. But who was he kidding here? We weren’t ‘just friends’. We fell asleep rubbing noses last night, come on.

“And this kind of thing should never be casual,” he concluded, looking apologetic and a little anxious for my reaction. But I just dropped my eyes to the bed and smiled, because he was so naïve it was actually endearing.

“Frank, I’m in love with you,” I reminded him candidly, laying all my cards on the table, “How’s that for casual?”

My eyes flickered back to his and he held my gaze for a second, looking into my soul for sincerity. He was doing a good job at keeping his composure, but I could see the effect my words had had in his wide, vulnerable eyes. I could practically see my words denting the guards he had put around his heart. I was slowly breaking them down, but I realised then that it wasn’t going to be a quick and painless process… He needed time to heal before he could learn to trust again.

I realised all of this as I was looking in his eyes, and so I didn’t take offence when he didn’t say he loved me back; I felt kind of guilty, in fact, for putting him in an uncomfortable position.

“I’m sorry,” I apologised after a heavy silence, finally letting go of his belt buckle. “I didn’t mean to push you again… You’re not ready for this, I can see that.”

He gave me a small, grateful smile and reached out to take hold of my hand; a simple, but loving gesture that made my heart swell inside my chest.

“Yeah, I’m not,” he agreed softly, then he opened his mouth again like he was going to keep talking, but he hesitated, his eyes going out of focus, as if he was thinking hard about something. I waited patiently, squeezing his hand and stroking his thumb with my thumb.

And then, finally, he made a bold declaration that caught me way off-guard, in the best possible way:

“But I think… I’m ready for you to take me home.”