Not My Type (frerard)

a silly little chatfic i wrote on wattpad in 2017; in which gerard and frank work out their problems from the past while pete and mikey sit back in harmony. TWs for attempted suicide, mentions of child abuse, drug and alcohol abuse, self harm, and implied sexual content. the cover here is not my image; nor is it the original cover, for that would not fit the cover dimensions for movellas. this story contains crude humor that may not be suitable for all audiences. some photos may be missing from this story; in that case, i have tried my best to write around those parts or describe the photos to the best of my ability. for the best reading experience available, i suggest reading this story on wattpad instead. the themes written here do not reflect my own personal thoughts, opinions, and experiences. any similarities to real occurrences and real people (besides the people the characters are based off of, of course) are unintentional. all rights reserved.

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19. 19

chat with gee and the cracken.

 

gee: long time no talk shitface

 

the cracken: omg i thought you died

 

gee: yOUNNEVER CHECKED??

 

the cracken: I thought you wanted to die peacefully

 

the cracken: what are friends for

 

gee: square the fuck up bert

 

the cracken: bOi

 

gee: WHAT THE FUCK IS UP KYLE

 

the cracken: your sense of humor is boring and recycled as always

 

gee: SHuT up you have a pillowcase with pepe on it

 

the cracken: iT THAT WAS A GUFT

 

gee: YOU KEPT IT DIDNT YOU

 

the cracken: PEPE IS A HATE SYMBOL I AM A GOOD CLEAN MAN

 

gee: im WHEEZING

 

gee: YOU PISSED IN RONNIE'S LOCKER IN SENIOR YEAR

 

the cracken: I WAS A JUVENILE,,,,

 

gee: THERE'S NO ESCAPING IT

 

the cracken: why must my days come back to haunt me

 

gee: we all warned you

 

the cracken: YOU EHOULD HAVE TRIED HARDER

 

gee: WAS WAKING UP IN A DITCH NOT A WAKEUP CALL ENOUGH FOR YOU

 

the cracken: THATS,, THAT WAS ONE TIM E

 

gee: IT STILL JAPPEBED

 

gee: this just in I can't FuckiNG TYPE

 

the cracken: lame

 

-

 

"Who's that?" Frank asked quietly, glancing at the phone in Gerard's hands, rubbing his eyes briefly.

 

"Just Bert." Gerard answered.

 

"Ah, okay," Frank sat up, running a hand through his hair, and yawned.

 

"Good morning, sleepyhead." Gerard grinned, setting his phone aside.

 

"Mmh," Frank grunted, stretching, and becoming aware of the fact his shirt was discarded on the floor.

They didn't have sex, no, but Gerard's room was fucking hot and apparently Frank was the only one bothered by it.

 

"You look quite gorgeous today," Gerard said.

 

Frank felt his cheeks heat up. "Hush, you."

 

"It's the truth."

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