thirty: pointless fluff

"He's so sensitive, Mia, I'm always scared I'm about to hurt him again," I sighed, crossing my arms and leaning back into her sofa. "Like it's just... I love him so much, but I feel like I could slip up and say something wrong and even if I apologised he'd still be really hurt by it."

She frowned.

"Like if he heard what I was saying about him right now he'd think I would want to break up with him, but I don't, I just feel like I'm walking on eggshells talking to him."

"You gotta tell him."

I paused, staring back into her golden-brown eyes and biting my lip. I knew she was right. She was my best friend—had been since high school. She knew me better than my own parents did. She knew everything about the situation, and she also knew she was right.

I eventually nodded, giving in. "I know I have to tell him," I sighed. "I already know, I just don't know how."

"Straight-forward," she said immediately. "You've got to tell him how you feel exactly how you've been telling me. Tell him you feel frustrated with how you have to control how you speak around him. Tell him you love him, because you obviously do. Tell him that you'd never mean to hurt him and that if you do it's most likely out of ignorance."

"I—" I bit down harder on my lip. "You make it sound so easy."

"Just get talking and it'll come naturally. Just do it. Tell him you have to talk and then drop the bomb."

"You make it sound like a bad thing."

"Well," she sighed. "You do realise he's gonna be offended at first, right?"

"Yeah," I sighed. "That's my Gee for you."

Jamia smiled and I couldn't help but join her. "You guys are adorable. Now, I have to do some work so skedaddle and talk to your boyfriend, Frank."

"Yes, ma'am," I laughed, picking up my coat, slipping on my shoes and hugging her. "I'll see you soon."

---

"Hey, Gee?" I called out as I entered the flat I shared with my boyfriend.

"In the kitchen!" he called back and I took off my shoes and put my coat away before treading slowly into the kitchen where he was. He was hunched over his sketchbook on the kitchen table, nursing a mug of almost finished coffee in his free hand.

How he had a free hand while he was drawing, don't ask me, but when something becomes your job like drawing became his, you develop habits. I smiled when he didn't look up. Wrapping my arms around him from behind, I placed a soft kiss below his ear.

"Hey Frankie," he mumbled, leaning into me. "You smell nice."

"I was just at Jamia's," I said, kissing his neck again. "We had a... a conversation."

"Oh?" he said, closing his sketchbook and placing it gently on the table. "What about?"

"You, actually."

"Oh?" he squeaked.

"Yeah," I hummed into his neck softly. "You know I love you like the moon loves the earth right, Gee?"

He smiled, turning around to kiss me properly. "But what?"

"But nothing," I said, kissing him again. "Does there have to be a condition for me loving you?"

"No," he mumbled. "Sorry, I'm just... being self-conscious again, I'm sorry, Frankie."

"Don't apologise," I whispered. "Hey, you're okay, babe."

"Okay," he murmured, smiling. "So, what's up? I can tell there's something on your mind. Do you need a massage again? Is your guitar strap hurting your shoulder?"

I chuckled, running a hand through my hair. "No, no, it's you that's on my mind."

"Let's go to the couch, I'm uncomfortable and I sense that we need to talk about something. You always get like this when you wanna talk about something."

I shook my head, grinning at how well he knew me. "What do I get like?"

"You're all affectionate and you don't talk right."

"Am I not usually affectionate?" I teased and he turned bright red.

"No! No, I didn't mean that, Frankie, I'm so sorry," he said, his eyes wide with concern. "You're wonderful."

"Hey, hey," I soothed him, pulling him into my lap on the couch. "I was just teasing you."

"Oh," he sighed. "I'm sorry."

"Stop apologising, baby, you have nothing to be sorry for."

"Okay."

"Okay," I echoed.

"What do I look like when I wanna talk about something?" he asked.

"You bite your lip a lot and stutter and blush," I said softly. "It's kind of cute, honestly."

He chuckled and slid off of my lap so he could see me better. "So, what's up?"

I inhaled. "I um... I'm just gonna say it and I don't want you to be offended or take it personally, okay?"

He nodded.

"So I—" my mind raced. How I was supposed to do this without offending him beat me, but as Jamia said, I probably wouldn't be able to. But just jumping straight into it seemed a little risky. But life is a risk, so I did it anyway. "I... well, I feel like I always have to watch what I say around you because I always feel like I'm gonna offend you or hurt you and I—I just feel like I'm walking on eggshells constantly and I just... I need you to know that I would never hurt you knowingly. I love you so much and I never want to hurt you, I just..."

He bit his lip, looking at his lap and twisting his fingers together. "Yeah?" he rasped.

"I want you to know that I'd never intentionally hurt you. And I need you to tell me when you feel hurt so that I can fix things alright?"

He nodded, whispering, "I know you, Frankie."

"Hm?" I hummed.

"I... I know you," he said more clearly. "I usually know your intention when you say things, I just doubt myself and then I get worked up. I promise I'll ask you about something if it hurts me, but I've just got to learn to trust my instincts about what you're saying."

"Oh, that makes everything easier," I said nervously. "Why don't you trust yourself, baby?"

He shrugged, tears making their way up to his eyes. I could tell that he wasn't going to talk for a while because if he did, he'd start crying. I tentatively took him into my arms and kissed his forehead.

"Let it out, baby," I whispered. "You gotta cry sometimes. Then you can tell me what's the matter, yeah?"

"Y-yeah," he whispered, letting the tears roll out of his eyes and onto his cheeks. I wiped his cheeks for him occasionally, kissing his forehead intermittently and running my fingers through his hair.

Eventually, his breathing became regular again and he kissed me gently, muttering thank-yous under his breath. I kissed him again, then pulled away a little bit.

"What's going on, baby?"

"My uh..." he sniffled. "My dad, he... he, um. His bones. They came back."

I closed my eyes and pulled Gerard into my chest. So this is why he'd been so apologetic lately. His dad was back. Well, not really, just his bones. They appeared randomly around the house around Easter when his dad died, and every time they appeared, Gerard would have dreams in flashbacks, flashing to times he'd abused him.

"What'd he say this time?"

"Said you didn't want me," Gerard sniffled, and I pulled him closer to my chest as he continued, "and he said I fucked up all the time, a-and that you were gonna break it off with m-me."

"Baby," I murmured and kissed the top of his head, "I'm so sorry. You know I love you. You know I want you, right?"

"I-" he stuttered, "didn't think you still did."

I inhaled and exhaled calmly and rubbed his back, pressing kisses to his forehead and hair periodically until he'd stopped crying.

"Frankie, they're so real," he hummed into my chest when his tears had run out, and I held his hand in mine.

"But you know they aren't," I whispered, "right?"

He nodded. "But they just confirm what I already think. But the... when he said you were gonna leave me..."

"Yeah?" I whispered, gently pushing him. I needed to know why he thought I'd ever leave him.

"I'd never thought about that before, and when he told me you were annoyed by me, when he told me you thought I was a nuisance, he told me that was why you were gonna split with me," Gerard whispered, and even though he was on the verge of tears, he held it together. I congratulated him with a gentle kiss to his lips.

"I love you, Gerard," I whispered.

"I love you too," he said back, but I shook my head.

"No, you don't understand. I couldn't ever leave you, not if you bugged me to the end of the world because you're so special, and beautiful, and Gee?"

He let out a choked sob in response, so I continued.

"Gee, I wanna spend the rest of my life with you, baby," I whispered, and he pressed his face into my neck, nodding and whispering all of the feelings that he reciprocated.

"I fucking," he stammered and pulled his face out of my neck, "God, I love you so much. I wanna marry you."

"It'll happen at some point," I promised, and when he smiled, I sealed it with a kiss. "It'll definitely happen."

He pressed his lips to mine again, and when he pulled away, he played with one of the necklaces around my neck and looked at his hands. "I'm gonna stop apologising as much. I don't want you to hold back around me."

I hummed and pressed my forehead to his and both of our eyes slipped closed.

"But," he continued, "it's not gonna take a day, and I need you to be patient with me and I need you to understand, but I also need you to stop walking on eggshells like right now so I can get used to it quicker m'kay?"

"M'kay."

"Don't ween me into anything."

"No?" I smirked a little and he chuckled, pulling our foreheads apart in order to look me in the eyes.

"No."

"Alright. I'll start right now. I wanna make dinner with you and then fuck you afterwards." I grinned when his face flushed.

"Alright, then," he chuckled. "Let's make dinner, then."