Follow me home (Frerard)

And the way your eyes look into me

Gerard's POV

I had to get a new phone. I had to. With Frank back on tour, it was nearly impossible to keep in touch with him using only a laptop. When he told me he was dropping out of college to tour full-time, I wasn't really sure what to think. At first, I was worried about him. If this whole label thing fell through, what would happen? He would be homeless, with no college to go back to and no family to rely on, and then what? But the more I thought about it, the more I came around to the idea of him touring all the time. More tour dates meant he would be moving around a lot, and he promised he would try his best to make dates in New York so he could see me. That hasn't happened yet, but I keep my hopes up.I think the first week was the hardest. The night he left, I spent most of my time being attacked by probing questions from Bob and Jamia, including "Who bottomed? You were a bottom, right?" and when I turned bright red and refused to answer, Bob laughed even harder and exclaimed, "I knew it! You're a bottom!"Instead of giving him the satisfaction of knowing whether he was right or wrong, I simply rolled my eyes and let him poke his fun at me. It lasted only a little while before Jamia told Bob to be nice and I managed to escape to my room. 

Inside, the bedroom looked the same as always for the most part, but it felt so different that it was like a physical aura and I paused in the doorway.The scraps of paper that had littered the floor were now cleaned up, piled into a neat stack on the desk. I frown when I realize they were all the images of Frank I had, every drawing of him I'd made. I wasn't so worried about the amount of time I'd spent on them-- I could redo each and every one of them with ease-- but Frank must have thought I hated him. My chest aches already, feeling the emptiness he left behind. He's only been gone three hours, I doubt he's even out of the state, but he feels so far away. I run my fingers over the shreds of discarded paper, letting out a soft sigh.I leave the papers and turn to my bed, prepared to crawl under the sheets and soak up the lingering feel of Frank lying there next to me, when I see something folded up in the middle of the mattress. Shit, I think. Frank forgot his jacket...I go to the clothing and pick it up. The fabric of the hoodie is soft against my fingertips, but cool. It lacks the warmth Frank gave it, but as I raise the jacket to hug it against my chest, I realize it smells like him. The mixture of Marlboros and mint. I close my eyes, imagining him standing next to me, wrapping my arms around him instead of the measly shirt. But when I open my eyes, it's still only the jacket in my hands. 

I'm about to crawl into bed when I look down. I didn't see the paper before, hidden underneath the sweatshirt, but now it lies on my mattress untouched. The picture has been taped back together and straightened out, though the creases and frayed edges are still visible. It's the picture I drew of Frank last night, after he fell asleep. Below the sketch, in his scribbled handwriting, it reads; "I'll miss you more. -xox frnk."I fall asleep easily that night, after sending a text to Frank that says, "Liar. I fucking miss you already. xoGee." I keep my head under the blankets and clutch the hoodie to my chest. I don't even hear when my brother comes in and steals a blanket and pillow, making himself a bed on the floor.I don't have the chance to Skype Frank for a few more days. We text in the mornings and every night, but my days are pretty empty. Mikey makes me take him to the movies and he complains more often about being bored, but I think he just wants to help keep my mind off Frank. I'm secretly grateful for this because every passing second without Frank is a nightmare. Now that I've seen him, I've opened up to him in a way I didn't know was possible. It's like, before he left I cut out my heart and handed it to him on a silver platter with a note that says, "Fragile. Handle with care." And now I'm missing my heart, feeling broken and breathless without it.

When I do eventually get the text from Frank that reads, "I OFFICIALLY HAVE WIFI. SKYPE ME ASSHOLE." I waste no time booting up my laptop and signing on. It's dark when Frank's face finally appears on the screen, but there's enough light filtering in around him to see a few features. I can see when he grins, letting out a heavy sigh. "Hi."I smile back. I don't take the time to feel self-conscious about being on camera or care that my hair is sticking up in every direction because I haven't washed it in four days. All that matters is that I see him and he sees me and we're both here, even if we're not actually together. "Hi." I bite down on my lip nervously, feeling the butterflies swarming around at the sight of him. Frank lets out a soft chuckle and a low growling sound at the back of his throat. "I miss you," He tells me. "So much." He sighs and shakes his head. "I'm so sick of this bumfuck town. But I got some wifi and just had to see you."