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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"Home," Frank called, even though he was technically not home; he was walking into the Way household.

 

"Hi, Frank!" Donna peeked out of the kitchen, smiling brightly. "How did therapy go?"

 

"Nothing special," He shrugged, kicking his shoes off. "Where's Gerard?"

 

"Oh, at work." Donna replied, walking back into the kitchen. "Feel free to stay and wait. I'm not too interesting but I'll try to keep you company!"

 

Frank chuckled a bit, following her.
Mikey and Pete were sitting at the dining room table- staring at their phones, occasionally showing each other some lame Facebook meme and laughing quietly.
The Cure was playing from a radio placed on the cabinet.

 

"What's for dinner?" Frank questioned, noticing Donna was cooking.

 

"Homemade pizza," She replied cheerfully.

 

"Hell yeah," Pete piped up. "My favorite."

 

"Language, Peter." Mikey mumbled.

 

Frank chuckled again, glancing over at them briefly.

 

There was a comfortable silence for a bit, besides the radio switching to a Bowie song, until Mikey spoke again.

"Gerard texted, he's on his way home."

 

Frank smiled, checking his phone just in case.

3 new messages from the cracken, Lyn-z.

None from Gerard, but he was still happy.

 

the cracken: I had thE WEIRDEST FUCKING DREAM I WAS STUCK IN A FUCKING COFFIN

 

the cracken: oh shit wrong pERSON SORRY

 

-

 

Lyn-z: do u remember the cute girl who got the VIP pass I told u about. do u. ok anyways turns out her name is jamia and she works at Barnes & Noble and guess who just went there to "shop" aka scope out that ass. it was ME. MY GAY ASS.

 

Frank snickered quietly, putting his phone back in his pocket.

 

"Would you like to stay for dinner, Frank?" Donna asked.

 

"If that's okay," Frank tilted his head to the side slightly. "I'd love to."

 

"That's perfectly fine."

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