Forget About It

It’s been exactly one hour and twenty-three minutes. One hour and twenty-three minutes since Gerard was sent to his room like a spoiled teenager, and he’s feeling fed up with taking orders. He opens the door and peers out, only to see an empty hallway. Down the stairs he inches his way, and runs into no one. There isn’t a soul in the kitchen anymore, so he walks over to the fridge. He’s not really hungry, but he will be later, and there is no way in hell he is going to spend any more time than necessary in a house that Frank could be lurking in.

“Hayley ungrounded you, I see,” Frank’s obnoxious voice startles him, and he drops an apple onto the floor with a small thud. He looks over his shoulder to see Frank smirking at him while leaning on the doorframe.

“Didn’t your mom ever teach you it’s not polite to stare?” Gerard retorts, picking up the apple and closing the fridge.

“Not when it was zoo animals.”

“I don’t think you have room to talk, shrimp. Still not tall enough for the big rides?” Gerard snarls menacingly, taking a bite out of the apple.

“Fuck you. You’re not that much taller than me, asshole,” Frank pushes himself off the door frame, and steps into the warm kitchen, his cologne suddenly filling Gerard’s nostrils.

“Still tall enough to hang with the big kids,” Gerard shrugs.

“Like they’d go near you looking like you’re about to gouge their eyes out,” Frank quickly replies, not willing to let Gerard win this particular battle.

“You’re one to talk. You’re really not much of a looker, are you?” Gerard says callously, completely disagreeing with himself. The whole statement contradicts his thoughts, as he looks at Frank’s big hazel eyes surrounded by thick lashes, his cute button nose, and then to complete his look he has those full pink lips.

Frank snorts disbelievingly, “I beg to differ. I’m pretty sure you find me attractive.”

“As if.”

“We both know that you think I’m hot, okay? Just drop the act, and stop lying to me, and yourself,” Frank says.

“Fuck off. You’re so stuck-up. How can anyone as hideous as you love yourself so much?” Gerard asks, “If I had a face like that, I’d probably make an investment in plastic surgery, but I don’t think you could really fix that.”

“If it ain’t broke, than don’t fix it,” Frank says, with conniving indifference.

“You disgust me,” Gerard spits.

“Because you totally want me,” he coos.

Gerard raises an eyebrow, “Want you in a grave plot.”

“You’re either in denial, or trying to make me believe something that you don’t believe yourself. It’s not like I’m blind. I turn you on, don’t I?”

“Like hell you do.”

Frank smirks, “Oh I so do.”

Gerard steps back as Frank inches closer, gaining his confidence over the taller man.

“You’re so hopelessly misguided,” Gerard says, voice quivering.

Frank hears the hesitancy and snorts, “Do you think I’m pretty, Gee?”

“Don’t call me that!”

“Do I make you horny baby?” Frank purrs in a ridiculous accent, making Gerard freeze. His body stiffens as he remembers himself saying those exact words.

Gerard’s mind flashes back to the night of the strip club, with Frank’s body pressed up against his. It galvanizes a spot in his mind, and all he can think about was how close Frank had been. How close he got to doing something with the man he loathes so much. Gerard looks down, his eyelids blocking Frank’s view of the glossed over look in his eyes from the flashback.

Frank watches as Gerard suddenly tenses up at his words, and his eyes go blank for a second. At that moment, Frank realizes that Gerard is remembering that fateful night, and that it’s not the first time he remembers. He looks up and that’s all the confirmation Frank needs to grab Gerard, and roughly lead him to his room.

They need to talk.

Gerard is pulled behind Frank so forcefully he couldn’t stop it if he tried. He might even have some bruising on his wrist later. He’s anxious to see what Frank has to say, but the thought crosses his mind that he just gave it away. He threw away the charade of ignorance, and now Frank is going to call him out on it. His only defense was that he didn’t remember that night, and now it’s all gone. This isn’t going to be pretty.

When they get to the room, Frank pushes Gerard confrontationally. Gerard looks around the room with terror, and then eases up when he sees that it’s empty apart from them.

“You remember, I know you do,” Frank says, going up to Gerard.

“What?” Gerard asks.

“You fucking remember and you’ve been lying about it! What do you think you can do? Just go around pretending nothing happened, because it did! A lot of shit has happened, and you’ve been completely avoiding it like if you pretend it didn’t happen then the feelings will go away,” Frank says, blazingly angry with the way that Gerard’s acting so defensive.

“Feelings? What the hell do you mean by feelings?” Gerard questions, but even as he says it he’s nervous to hear Frank’s response.

“Oh don’t even play that game with me,” Frank slams the door behind him, closing them both into the room, “you know precisely what happened. You’ve noticed this.... stuff!”

Frank mimes frantically from himself to Gerard, not being able to find the precise words.

“What the hell are you suggesting? Do you think, do you actually think that I have feelings for you?” Gerard asks, but from the tone of his voice it’s more of an accusation.

“Oh, because coming onto me twice now is completely inconsequential,” Frank snarls.

“Twice? I have not... once! While I was drunk! You’ve completely skewed this to make it seem like it’s one sided though! Like you didn’t have any fault in the first time,” Gerard says alluding to the time a few days ago when they had had yet another argument, and Frank had essentially thrown himself at Gerard.

“So you getting off on arguments is supposedly my fault now?” Frank says, with sarcasm lacing his words brutally.

“You know what you fucking did, Frank!” Gerard says, “And I, in no way, have feelings for you. Actually that’s not true, my feelings for you are of complete and utter loathing.”

“Same here,” Frank says.

“So we can just pretend it didn’t happen then. I was drunk, and you... you were, ugh,” Gerard doesn’t have the right words to say what he’s thinking.

“I didn’t take advantage of you though,” Frank says, feeling offended.

“I didn’t say you did,” Gerard answers, not having expected that response from Frank. “But I was drunk, it’s not like I actually wanted to, uh, you know.”

“Oh right?” Frank snorts, “totally didn’t want to. That’s why you get turned on by arguing with me, huh? Because I have no effect on you whatsoever.”

“I do not!” Gerard says loudly then panics, not wanting someone to overhear them yelling again. If Brendon catches them having a shouting match one more time than he may take a more serious course of action.

“Yeah right,” Frank says, and he’s getting into Gerard’s personal space again. He’s backing Gerard up against the same wall where the previous incident occurred. He just keeps stepping closer and closer. Gerard doesn’t know what to do, whether he should run now so that he doesn’t have to deal with this, or stay so he can scratch off the itch of curiosity.

Gerard gulps and looks anywhere but at Frank, “you don’t know me! I don’t like you, okay? I mean, you’re-”

He’s cut off by Frank halting directly in front of him, barely half a foot away.

“I mean I’m not going to deny that, uh, physically maybe you’re not exactly unappealing,” Gerard says the word quickly, hating himself for saying it at all, “but you repulse me with your- your, uh, attitude, and t-temper.”

“So you are attracted to me?” Frank says as if he’s won the battle.

“No. You’re horrendous,” Gerard spits, feeling a little more courageous.

Frank’s not buying it though, he sees the sweat on Gerard’s face from nerves, and he’s totally into it if he’s being truthful.

“You know, I wouldn’t have minded it,” Frank says shrugging. Gerard looks at him confused, because he has no idea what he’s referring to.

“Minded what?”

Frank’s smile looks evil, but it’s pissing Gerard off that he likes the way it looks on Frank. This is so weird. It’s like that incident is happening all over again. Everything, right down to the backing up to the wall, and the argument, and the less than enough room in his pants.

“If you weren’t drunk, I don’t think I’d have done nearly as much protesting. Probably wouldn’t have protested at all,” Frank shrugs again like it’s no big deal.

What the hell is he saying though? Gerard’s trying to smack himself out of this nightmare or daydream or whatever this is, but it’s not working. This is happening, this is real. Frank has him pressed against the wall, and they’re practically touching. It’s all very inexplicable.

“What do you m-mean?” Gerard stutters. He’s totally baffled by this side of Frank. This animalistic, almost seductive person.

“You know exactly what I mean, Gerard,” Frank strings the name out sending a shiver through Gerard’s entire body. It’s plainly obvious that neither one of them needs to look down to clarify anything this time. They both know that the other is on the same level. They both know what they’re doing to each other.

“Y-you know what, Frank? You’re kind of an asshole,” Gerard says.

“You know what, Gerard? You too.”

“Well then,” Gerard says. It feels like the argument is over, but whatever is happening is definitely not over. He doesn’t know what the hell is happening though.

“Yep,” Frank smiles and his eyebrows raise themselves menacingly. He’s daring Gerard to stop this. He’s openly challenging Gerard to walk away right now, but they both know that’s not going to happen.

“Um,” is all Gerard manages. He can’t think clearly, because he’s still not convinced that any of this is real, and not some disillusioned wet dream.

It’s Frank who makes the first move, and if it isn’t cavalier as all hell, “take off your shirt.”

Gerard’s past the point of thinking things through, or thinking about the consequences. This is happening and he is not at all willing to stop it. Part of him thinks he’s wanted this since the incident that Brendon so rudely interrupted, but maybe it’s been a craving he’s had for longer.

His head is spinning, and the world is kind of tipping, and Gerard’s distinctly aware of someone’s hand at his zipper, but his eyes are closed and he’s trying to keep himself from falling out of reality. This is reality, this is not just a figment of his imagination.

Then Frank’s mouth is on his neck, making Gerard’s head fall back on his shoulders, and that’s right about when Gerard completely loses it. That’s when he just decides to accept it.