You Couldn't Hate Enough To Love

His bed hair was messed up from sleeping on his couch for too long. It wasn't that his couch was uncomfortable in any way, but when he had the option to sleep in his own, comfy bed, that was just in the opposite room, so he wasn't too keen on sleeping on the couch. The only problem though, was that there was a complete stranger, occupying his bed at the moment, so he didn't have the option to crawl in there, and rest his hungover body under the warmth of his comforting cover.

He had never liked the way his back ached when he woke up on the mornings after sleeping on couches. It didn't matter who's couch it was, or how good or soft it was: sleeping on couches was shit, it felt like shit and it would always be shitty. He had never been a fan when it came to sleeping on couches, period. Even when he was a little kid, he would wake up all sweaty from nightmares where he would be clinging to his teddy bear like it was his only lifeline. That was something that would always be a problem when it came to him. Fortunately, he no longer had pointless nightmares, and the teddy bear was long gone.

Something else he wasn't to keen about, was to sleep with clothes on. Skinny jeans wasn't made too sleep in, it was way to uncomfortable, and he could not stand having the tight jeans cupping every piece of his lower areas while he was sleeping. That's why, if he could have it the way that he wanted, he would strip himself down to the underwear, not naked though, that was way to personal.

Unfortunately, that was not an option that night. Just like his bed, it was occupied and there was nothing he could do to get it back. Unless he wanted to wake up his little 'friend,' of course. But he mostly just wanted to get out of the house, so when he came back, his house would be empty.
He highly doubted that his visitor would steal anything though, and even if he did, money was never a problem. So he would just replace it.

But he knew from experience that waking up in a unknown house with no sign of the host whatsoever, was absolutely shit. He absolutely did not want to be that one bastard who would cause allot of confusion to others. If he didn't like it, there were a good change that others didn't enjoy it too. So he would always avoid doing things to others that he didn't enjoy himself.

So instead of staying in the godforsaken couch, or leaving the house, he got his sorry ass up. So he could grant himself the one thing that he desperately needed in the mornings: coffee.

On the other side of the room that contained his comfy bed. Another body slowly started to stir awake because of the holy smell of coffee. When he finally opened his eyes, he was confused. Not because he had woken up in a strangers bed, but because he had no memory of how he'd ended up there. He would usually remember what his drunken body had done. And the fact that he hadn't actually gotten to drunk, but still didn't remember anything, scared him. He could remember that his car had gotten abducted, his frustration, and the very annoying guy- and that was about it. He had no memory what so ever of what had happened after that, so he had no idea where he was at the moment.

Frank didn't notice that the other side of the bed wasn't occupied and slowly but surely got out of the bed. What he was surprised at though, was that he wasn't sore, so he silently petted his back, happy that the drunken mess that he sometimes was, hadn't caused anybody pleasure.

He still didn't know the answer to the next question that popped into his head: why the fuck was he here then? If he wasn't the remain of a one-nightstand, then why was he there anyways? No person alive, except for Jesus would've been so nice to take him home, only to give him a very comfortable bed, and still not take advantage of him.

Whoever it was, Frank wanted to see his face- normally, he would get the fuck away as soon as he woke up, not wanting to disturb the other person, 'cause everything he was, was a one nightstand, he didn't need to stay more than necessary. But now that he wasn't there for that reason. he got pretty curious.

As he made his way to the door that he assumed were the entrance to the rest of the house, 'cause there were only two doors, one of them probably lead out to a bathroom, and the other one would obviously lead the way to the rest of the house. It was a fifty, fifty guess to find the right door first. And even if he did end up in the bathroom, there was no big of a deal, as there would be no one to witness it.

Neverless, Frank still liked to be right about these stuff, sometimes he would literally use minutes where he would stare at two different roads, left or right. He always went left though. He hated to have to go back. So instead of loosing some seconds to just go back, he would use several minutes figuring out what the right way was. But in the end, he would always end up going left. Why? Because right was never the right way.

The door he was heading to was on the left side.

The left door was the right door. Obviously.

Silently congratulating himself for choosing the right door, Frank stepped out of the dark bedroom and into a bigger room. He didn't take in his surroundings, thinking he would find time to do that later, so he continued his first mission: to find out where the heavenly coffee smell came from.

As soon as he stepped into the kitchen, he could see a slim figure standing, or leaning into the kitchen counter. His back was facing Frank's, so he couldn't see his face. The only thing that Frank really could, was his raven looks, still had a pretty messed up bed hair.

Before Frank could say anything to notify that he was awake, the man turned around. Having a cup of steaming hot coffee in one of his hands, newly brewed.

As Frank saw his face, he subconsciously took an step back. Frank surely recognized the guy, it was the guy from outside the bar. And Frank had been right; now that he could see the guy in daylight, he didn't look so pale and scary anymore. His eyes had no longer dark circles around them and he looked allot more awake. He still looked tired though, making Frank wonder where he had slept while he had been occupying his bed. But even though the man didn't look like he had slept very well, he had still slept, so that counted.

In other words: he no longer looked like shit, and Frank was taken aback about that. He had thought that the guy was good looking the night before, but no, he somewhat managed to look even better. Surprisingly enough.

The man had noticed Frank's unsure step. He got a bit confused, successfully scrunching his face in a adorable way.

"You don't look very happy to see me." He sighted and turned around again, confusing Frank a bit, making him wonder if the guy really wanted an answer, as it wasn't a question. So he didn't say anything, and kept on awkwardly shifting weight to one foot to the other.

And then the guy turned around again, this time revealing another cup of coffee, this one was obviously for Frank, and he made it clear by lifting it kinda up, silently offering him it.

Frank gladly took the offer and stepped properly into the kitchen, so that he no longer stood awkwardly in the door frame. As he got closer to the man, he stopped, he made sure he wasn't too far away from the guy, but that there were still some space between them, but he could still lean forward and grab the cup of coffee that the guy held.

He carefully brought the hot liquid to his mouth, not wanting to burn himself, but he was still eager to taste the hot beverage.

It was all silent, none of them said anything and both of the men were sipping at their coffee, the silence felt awkward for Frank, he didn't like being in the situation he was in, and Frank wasn't sure if he was suppose to leave or not.

He also didn't want to ask him why he had helped him, if he asked, he would get an answer, and he wasn't actually sure if he needed to hear it. So if they never talked about it, he didn't need to thank him ether. The guy might have helped him, but that didn't meant that Frank still liked him. So if they didn't bring up the topic, he wouldn't need to thank him for anything. It wasn't like he asked him for help... he think.

"So, what's your name?" Frank got a bit taken aback when the guy spoke, he hadn't actually expected that the guy had dared to break the suffocating silence.

"Frank.. I suppose I should ask you the same thing then?" Frank answered, the last part came barely out as a whisper.

None of them looked at each other as they talked, they were both staring into thin air, not bothered to look somewhere else. There was a pause before the other man answered, like he had been arguing with himself if he actually should answer it or not.

"It's Gerard." Gerard then turned to face Frank, placing his half empty cup on the counter. This way he could take in Frank's looks properly for the first time.

Some would call Frank small, but he was only a few inches lower than Gerard. His brown eyes which some people would probably mistake for being chocolate brown, especially when it was dark. But now that they were in clear daylight, Gerard could easily see that they were hazel with hints of green, and sometimes honey-ish colors in them. Making Frank's eyes absolute stunning. Everything with him depended on the light, he guessed.

Frank's hair was also quite amusing, it looked black when Gerard first had seen him the previous night, but he could now see it was dark brown. Frank's hair also stopped right above his shoulders, and it looked like it once had been cut to look like a faux hawk but that he eventually had grown tired of it, and had just let it grow. He still had a side bang though, hanging over Frank's right eye, he was too tired to sweep it out of his eye, and Gerard could feel his fingers flex, wanting to do it for him.

Even though Frank had noticed the fact that Gerard's name was, well, Gerard. He didn't really take his time to think about it. There were over a million of people named Gerard. So that this Gerard could be Mikey's brother, was so unlikely that he didn't even bother to think thoroughly bout it. They shared the same name, that was about it.

The silent that had consumed the both of them was no longer the awkward silent that it had been only a few minutes ago. It was now strangely ok for both of them.

Now that they knew each other's name, they were no longer strangers.

After a while, when they had drunken up their coffee, and they had both got bored of the silence, Frank decided it was his time to speak. He didn't know what to say, he just wanted to say something.

"What time is it anyways?" When Gerard cheeked his watch so he could answer Frank, he got quite surprised of how early it actually was. Considering how late it was when he had gone to bed.

"It's around seven thirty.. why?"

"Just wondering.." Frank subconsciously licked his lips before he talked again.

"Hey, can I um.. borrow your phone or something? I need to call a cab. Y'know.. I don't have have a car anymore." Gerard chuckled at the last words, he definitely remembered that Frank didn't have a car at the moment, and he was pretty glad that Frank didn't look like he found it to entertaining anymore. So he just mumbled a small "Sure." And tossed him his phone.

"Why don't you have one actually?" Gerard asked, actually curious.

"I tossed it in the lake." He answered rather matter of factly. Earning a choked laughter from Gerard, he had definitely not expected that answer.

"You don't wanna know." Frank chuckled before Gerard could ask him about it, and then entered the number to get a cab.