What the Frank

{Third person’s P.O.V}

Gerard groaned loudly as he ran his fingers through his recently-dyed black hair for the final time, upset with its look. He ran a hand over his cleanly-shaven face, effectively wiping the tiny beads of sweat away. He was nervous. He was talking Frank out to dinner. He'd spent days trying to select the perfect restaurant, making sure that it wasn't too fancy and out of his price range, and also checking to see if there were any vegetarian or vegan items on the menu. Gerard had intended for this date meet-up to be a platonic one, not a romantic one has he would have wished.

He sighed as he examined himself in the mirror one final time, deciding that he looked fine. He grabbed his keys and his wallet from the coffee table and headed for the door, making sure to turn off the lights and lock his apartment door before exiting the building, excitedly running down the stairs. He'd hoped that this night would go perfectly—he didn't want to ruin things for a change.

He sighed nervously as he placed the key into the ignition, the car starting up, the vibration going through his body. He turned the car radio down has he placed his foot on the gas pedal so that he could concentrate. As he drove down the street, the sound of the cool wind gusting through his open window, he started to think. He started to think about what would happen during their friendly dinner date. He chewed his bottom lip as numerous scenarios wafted through his mind. There were the good scenarios where Frank would finally forgive him and get back together, or at least have sex with him for one last time, and then there were the bad scenarios, where everything would blow up in his face, and his chances of ever having any sort of relationship, other than parenting their son, would be demolished.

Suddenly, he regretted the fact that he didn't drink a beer, or two, before leaving his apartment. The sinking feeling in his stomach grew more prominent as beads of sweat began to reappear on his forehead, despite the cool air constantly blowing on his face. He anxiously gripped the steering wheel as he took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. It started to rain lightly as he drove, the downpour getting heavier and heavier with every passing minute. Gerard raised the car window, his arm partially soaked with water.

“Fuck” he said as he turned on the windshield wipers, squinting his eyes as he tried to see through the heavy mask of the rain. He glanced at the clock, which shown 7:35. He started to speed up, trying to make it to Frank’s house on time. The rain continued to pour as he sped down the road, hammering against the roof of his car.

As he passed through an intersection, out of his peripheral, he could see a car speeding towards him from the adjacent road. “Shit!” He screamed as he tried to swerve out of the way. The driver tried to skid to a stop, but it was too late. The loud crunch of metal and the breaking of glass sounded throughout the area as the two cars collided.

Everything happened so fast. The last thing that Gerard’s brain could register was the crunching of meal before the darkness. It was so abrupt and blank; it was terrifyingly soothing. Gerard’s unconscious body was slumped over into the passenger’s seat, barely breathing. Small shards of glass cut deeply into the skin of his cheek and his arm. Smaller pieces of glass that didn’t penetrate his skin littered his hair and his clothes, as well as the rest of the car and the street.