Raconteur

“Tell me a story,” Frank whispered, his head resting on Gerard’s shoulder. He closed his eyes and sighed, feeling content with the world. He’d honestly never felt happier than he did in that moment, sitting on the couch with his boyfriend, mindlessly watching television.

Gerard removed his eyes from the television screen and fixed them on Frank. He lifted the arm he had draped around his boyfriend’s shoulder and weaved his fingers through the curly locks of Frank’s chocolate brown hair.

‘“About What?”

“I don’t know…” Frank’s eyes wandered the room until they landed upon the face of his lover, committing it to memory. He looked the curve of Gerard’s jaw, the flecks of gold in his eyes, the faint laugh lines forming around the corners of his eyes. He smiled.

“Us,” he answered. “Tell me a story about us.”

Gerard had always loved to tell stories. He’d been that way since he was little. For some reason, he found joy in making up tales about pirates or adventurers. He loved telling fairytales about princesses locked up in towers and the princes who came to save them. More than anything loved the looks in the eyes of the people who listened to him and the way they hung onto his every word.

For Gerard, telling tales gave him a purpose. He didn’t think he was all that good at anything else. Sure, he was smart and he had a slight knack for drawing, but making up stories was what he was really good at. He liked knowing that he could create a whole other world that he could slip into when the real world became too difficult to deal with.

“Us?” Gerard asked.

Frank nodded. “Yeah. Tell me about us.”

Gerard didn’t know what to say. He’d always made stuff up. Breaking eye contact with his boyfriend, Gerard retracted his arm from Frank’s shoulder and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I don’t understand…”

Frank leaned forward as well, an encouraging smile on his face. “You always make stuff up, Gee. I want to hear a story about something real… or at least something involving some semblance of reality.”

Frank had always loved Gerard stories. He loved the action and the romance and the way that, somehow, despite all of the roadblocks, everything worked out in the end. However, more than the stories themselves, Frank loved listening to Gerard. He loved the spark in Gerard’s eyes whenever he made something up, the energy in his voice when the plot got a little juicy. He loved how much Gerard loved to tell stories.

To put it plainly, Frank loved Gerard.

What Frank needed to know more than anything was that Gerard loved him as much as he loved his stories.

“What’s wrong with all of the others?” Gerard asked. “Do you not like them anymore? Is that it?”

Frank shook his head, disappointed in the way things seemed to be going. He’d been so sure that the words would come as easily as they always did. Something told him that Gerard would be able to tell a story about something real, about them, just as effortlessly as he could about something pretend. However, as each second flew by, Frank was slowly losing hope.

“No, Gee…” Frank said, a slight frown forming on his lips. He sunk into the couch, staring plainly at the television. “That’s not it at all.”

A worried expression etched itself into Gerard’s features. He furrowed his brow as he looked down at his boyfriend. “Frankie… tell me what’s wrong.”

Frank sadly looked up at Gerard, defeated. “You love your stories, Gee,” he said, softly as a couple on TV kissed under the stars.

“Well, what’s wrong with that? I’ve always loved telling stories,” Gerard replied. “… I thought you loved them too.”

Frank wiped at his eyes, smiling softly at his boyfriend as he kept telling himself that it wasn’t Gerard’s fault. He didn’t know any better.

“I do, Gee… I’ve always loved them.”

“Then tell me what’s bothering you, Frankie.”

Frank leaned forward, his palm cupping Gerard’s cheek as he placed a chaste kiss to his boyfriend’s lips. “I love you, Gee…” he spoke, a sad smile making its way onto his lips as he pulled away, “and I love your stories.” He paused, not knowing how to translate his feelings to plain english. He didn’t know how to do it without hurting Gerard in the process.

“But…” Gerard said, waiting for Frank’s response.

Frank shrugged, his heart aching. “I just wish you loved me as much as you loved your stories…”