Chapter six - my butt is cold but my heart is warm

Frank's point of view


I'm back in England. Hello.

My legs are destroyed from all my skiing and my mind is destroyed after a traumatic chairlift experience. (I got stuck on one for nearly four hours and had to be airlifted down with my skis still on. Then I had to slide down half a mountain on my butt.)

Buuuut despite all this, I'm pretty cool right now. Almost happy. Writing this really cheers me up. I just love getting so close to smut but just brushing past it.

Have some sexual frustration x


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I was sprawled out on the bed, the sheets tangled around my ankles, my clothes crumpled on the floor. The only sound in the room was the soft scratch of Gerard’s pencils on the page. The air was warm, a little tense, and smelt faintly of sweat and cigarettes.

Gerard’s eyes were on me as he drew, locked with mine, but straying to drift over my body as the sketch progressed. I felt vulnerable; my arms were rested on the pillow above my head, leaving my chest exposed, and my legs were spread slightly. Gerard had moulded me into the position he had wanted, and I hadn’t moved since he’d started drawing.

I shifted slightly and Gerard glanced up from the paper, tongue flicking out to wet his lips as his eyes met mine again. “Almost done,” he said quietly. He added the final layer of shading, signed his name in the corner of the page, and stood up.

“Can I move?” I asked. As sexual as the whole experience may have been, my butt was fucking cold.

Gerard hummed and nodded, his eyes fixed on the picture. I eagerly scrambled under the covers and curled up in bed, and my butt was warm at last. I craned my neck to catch a look at the sketch, but Gerard was stood up and I was too far down to see.

“You wanna see?” he asked.

I grinned. “Hell yeah.”

Gerard crawled under the blanket with me, hoodie and jeans still on, and sat beside me, leaning against the headboard. He rested the picture against his legs, and I sat up slightly to see.

I nearly stopped breathing. “Holy shit.”

The shading was soft and gave the sketch a romantic feel, and he had even captured the subtle self-consciousness and shyness in my eyes. It was incredible. He had made me beautiful.

I hugged him tightly, mumbling thanks into his hoodie and feeling his chest move slightly as he laughed shyly. “You’re fucking amazing, you know,” I murmured.

“Yeah, I know,” he said mischievously, “but it’s nice to have it reaffirmed by you every now and then.”

----

Rose was oddly cheery when she came home from school.

“What’s with the good mood?” I asked as Rose passed me the coffee she’d just made and hopped onto the couch next to me.

“I have two half friends,” Rose said. She sipped her coffee.

“Really?” I grinned. “Who?”

“One of the popular girls was actually nice to me. We talked a little in art. And Mr Somers is really cool too. He wants to meet you guys.”

“Why?” I asked, frowning. “What did you do?”

“He wants to know where I get all my artistic talent from.”

I laughed. “Well, it’s a bit of an impossibility that you inherited it from us, but I guess you were probably influenced a lot by Gee.”

“Yeah, that’s what I said.” She quirked a small smile.

I ruffled her hair, and she squirmed and prodded me in the chest. “Thanks,” she said jokingly, smoothing down her hair.

“You’re welcome."

I sipped my coffee, and Rose did the same. She’d definitely picked up her love of coffee from Gerard and me. Though a lot of these things weren’t inherent, we certainly had a lot of influence over her.

----

Gerard was asleep again. He’d been really tired lately. I didn’t question it though; it was probably just one of the weird phases he went through, and he’d be over it in a week or so. He was strange like that.

Rose was in her room, listening to music, sketching. After dinner, I’d talked to Gerard. I was going to be the one to tell her the potential cause of her being grey.

I knocked on the door softly. “Rosie?”

She didn’t respond.

“Headphones, right,” I mumbled. I tentatively pushed the door open.

Rose looked up. She pulled out one earphone. “Hey?”

“Hey, um. I need to talk to you. It’s kinda serious.”

“I swear, every time you come to my room it’s to talk about something serious.”

I laughed awkwardly. “Well, we have all our fun conversations downstairs.”

“Yeah, I guess. So what did you wanna talk about?”

“Um,” I said softly. “Why you’re grey.”

Rose’s face turned more serious. “Yeah,” she said slowly.

“Well, um. Gee’s mom– your mom– was in prison for at least twenty four hours, and she wasn’t looking after you then. The vice president took you.” I raked a hand through my hair, unsure how to go about telling her this. “You remember how I told you about Bob having weird powers for a while? Because of an experimental formula the whites injected him with?”

She nodded uncertainly.

“Um, well. We think they might have– they might have done something similar with you.”

“Like… injecting me with drugs?” Rose asked, eyes wide and confused.

“Maybe,” I said uneasily. “I think they might have tried to turn you white.”

Rose nodded slowly. “So I’m a medical case. That’s my explanation.”

I sighed. “I guess.”

“Well, it’s better than what I thought.”

“What did you think?”

She shrugged embarrassedly. “I thought it might be something to do with you and dad. I don’t know. Everything factoring in, we’re a pretty unique group.”

“Oh,” I mumbled.

There was an awkward silence.

“Well, that’s that, I guess,” Rose shrugged.

“Yeah… But it’s not like it really changes much. You’re still you. You’re still fucking awesome, if I may say so.”

Rose laughed. “Yes, very true.”

“Well, I’m glad that’s over and done with, to be honest. I kind of thought it might traumatise you.”

“Me? Nah. I’m not easily freaked out.”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed. It’s almost worrying,” I said with a small frown.

“It’s fine,” Rose said, shaking her head. “Don’t worry. It’s a good thing.”

“You sure?” I asked. Didn’t the fact that these things didn’t bother her mean that she’d been desensitised or something? I was pretty sure that wasn’t a good thing.

Sixteen years of parenting, and I still didn’t know these things. Hell, I was still a kid myself, inside. The fact that I wore cardigans and slacks now didn’t change the fact that inside I was a completely mental, rule-breaking punk rocker.

“I’m sure, papa. It’s okay. I’m okay with it.”

That probably should have had warning bells going off inside my head. Rose was not okay with it. I knew her. If she was okay with it, she would have smiled at least. But I disregarded it. Dumbest fucking decision of my life.


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Shit is happening.

Love you xoxo