From My Head To My Middle Finger, I Really Think I Hate You

Don't fucking touch me.

Frank was staring at him

well, he wouldn't call it 'staring' so much as 'studying' the man, trying to figure out how to properly form a sentence that wouldn't burn when coming out.

He hates Gerard, he thinks. Despises him, even.

"You're staring again" the older man says around his cigarette; hands dancing along a page in his sketchbook, creating artwork so effortlessly it almost makes Frank angrier.

He can't speak, no, really. His throat constricts and his words get caught just before they reach his lips, dropping down, down, down, back into the bottom of his stomach with the rest of the word vomit he's been keeping down since two thousand and fucking seven.

"No 'm not". He finally manages to huff out, looking somewhere else, anywhere else but Gerard's stupid fucking face. He knew he was staring, but he wouldn't admit that out loud. "I was zoning out you dipshit".

A chuckle from the artist. Oh god, kill me now, Frank thinks. "Okay Frankie, whatever you say". Fuck him. Fuck fuck fuck Gerard Way. Franks breath gets caught in his throat and he chokes, he can't see anymore and suddenly there's a hand on him and several thumps to the back. He still can't see but gives a thumbs up anyway, coughing out the stale air and taking a deep breath. The thumping stopped but the hands never left, instead rubbing small circles into his back. Frank hates it, he doesn't want to be touched anymore and he wishes he had the strength to pull away instead of letting that shiver run down his spine.

Gerard can feel it, he just knows it. He knows that Frank doesn't want him to get close. To put his hands on him. To make him feel. (Don't fucking touch me!), he wants to scream, to jerk away and swing at him. But he can't. He can't even bring himself to move an inch.

Someone is speaking to him.

"Frank, are you okay?, hey can you hear me?" Oh. It's still him. He doesn't want to answer, but does anyway. A meek "yeah yeah 'm fine" leaves his lips and he finally manages to wave Gerard off. How embarrassing, they haven't even been in the same room for ten minutes and already frank had almost died (okay, maybe thats an exaggeration).

Now who's staring, asshole? He pretends to ignore the hazel eyes that bore into his small, rotting soul. He feels disgusting under those eyes. Frank doesn't even remember how many times he wished Gerards eyes were staring back at him in his mirror instead of his own. He just knows that he hates them.

it hurts. it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts.

"Can you not look at me like that please." He didn't mean to sound so... mean- when he said it, but he could feel the others eyes burning into the back of his head, he didn't even have to look at him to know Gerard was "studying" him the same way Frank had done to him just moments before. What a hypocrite.

"Like what?" and then rage blinds him. He didn't even notice that he had moved, but when the blood red fury left his vision he realized he had leapt over the chair and pinned Gerard to the sofa where he was seated, angry, furious at the idea that the man beneath him had no idea what he was doing to him, what he's BEEN doing to him, ever since they started this clusterfuck friendship.

Frank can't even make himself let go, or move or even breathe. Gerard's eyes are wide and fear is bubbling behind them, but he looks just as calm as he did before.
"Frank..." a quick breath drawn, almost sounding like a hiss. "Frank you're hurting me. Frank? Frankie, get off." and just like that, he lets go, his insides churning and his hands shaking. He can't even look that motherfucker in the eyes.

"Frank, what-"

A hand touches his shoulder and he falls. Skin burning from the contact. "No!". He hadn't meant to cry, didn't want to. But it was so sudden and he couldn't even fucking see anymore. Breathing hurt, being in here with him hurt. It all fucking hurt. (Don't fucking touch me).

"why?" it's choked up and quiet. He wants to forget that they're in the same room, he wants to close his eyes and open them in a different place, far away from Gerard.
"why'd you do it?" He didn't expect Gerard to answer, or care, but he wanted him to understand. Gerard needed to know how bad it was.

Of course, he was met with silence. Gerard wouldn't talk about this, not with him. He knew what was going on, he listened to franks music, read his poems (he was shit at hiding his identity online), but he didn't understand why. How could he be hurting over it still?

"It was unhealthy for me, frank. I couldn't keep doing it". Gerard sounded quiet, almost guilty. Frank barked out a bitter, angry laugh. "Right, because it's always gotta be you above all else". Poison dripped from the words, he hated Gerard. "Well I'm so glad you're finally feeling better, I'm fucking fantastic, mental healths never been better, I'm on top of the fucking world, thanks for checking in". He knew he was being an asshole, but couldn't find it in himself to give a shit.

"Frank don't, please don't-" he turned and made eye contact with Gerard for the first time in what felt like years, eons. He was tearing up. Frank hated him. He had no right to sit there and cry like that, his stupid, stupid, stupid fucking stupid face made him so angry.

"You didn't even think of me. Not when you dropped me to marry Lindsey, and not when you dropped the band to marry comics. You never fucking gave it a second thought and you dragged me along and I let you." Tears were running down Franks face now, he couldn't help it.
He didn't care about being nice and quiet anymore, he was in so much fucking pain that he couldn't think about anything other than how bad it hurt.

"You threw me to the side like I didn't matter, like nothing that happened in those twelve years mattered and you forgot about me, you got to walk away and forget about it instead of owning up and talking it out like a normal fucking person, because thats what you always do, why couldn't you just fucking tell me, Gerard? I didn't even know until the letter." Silence, except for Franks shaky breathing. He knew it was pointless.

"I didn't know.. I don't know." was all the man could say. Gerard wouldn't stop fucking staring at him, it burned, hurt all over. Of course the fucker couldn't be assed to think about others, no, he just knew how to isolate himself and keep his selfishness on hand at all times.

Frank stood up, wiping his eyes and turning to face the bastard who fucked him over. He smiled, it wasn't a genuine smile, of course. He learned how to fake those years ago. He bared all his teeth and tilted his head.

"Well now you do".

and with that, Frank turned on his heel ad left him there. Staring at him as he went off.

He hates Gerard, He thinks.