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Frank never knew how to speak his feelings.
If anything, Frank used people as his communication bridge to convey his views or emotions. He struggled so hard to do it himself that it even made him sob at a school party. He couldn't speak to the cute girl in his class, ponytails and a perfect smile with brackets. Only to ask her for a dance.
But he was a grown man now; time had shaped him, and Frank was relieved that he didn't have to put in such effort. When Frank met Clara at a small park, she understood his situation quite well. Clara became his second voice and second thoughts on choices, and he trusted her insight enough to let her speak on his behalf.
But soon, Frank saw that she wasn't speaking for him. He didn't like the things she was proposing in practice, like stopping every second for her to readjust her instrument, or because it wasn't "what she had in mind." It took him months to realize that, and for days he didn't get out of his bedroom because of the guilt crushing his shoulders. After that, Frank offered beers as an act of peace and had a serious talk with Clara about the topic. Frank was the frontman after all! After it finished, she didn't speak to him until the next day, when Frank gave her a second chance.
He didn't want to admit it, but losing Clara could be the worst thing for his system.
Everything seemed okay and balanced, until Jon joined the band.
From the first moment Frank saw the red-haired guy, something strange was born inside his soul... or stomach, basically. A disturbance in the Force, as he heard once in a movie. He couldn't get it.
When Jon Burroughs presented himself as the main keyboardist of the band, Frank believed he could reach his full potential, encouraging him to keep going, and knowing the young guy would eventually become a great part of the band... and of his heart.
The matters of the heart were alien to Frank. Love came through creation, because that was what made his heart beat so fast it could burst. But no feelings had arisen from it since he was a child. And he felt like one every time he watched Jon. At every practice and every small moment they shared together—which were actually the few times they were standing less than one meter apart—Frank couldn't understand why he was so insane for him.
He is nothing but ordinary, not remarkable at all. Clara was smoking her third cig in a row when she said this. Frank felt unable to tell her his feelings, obviously, but couldn't miss the chance to ask her. Let's see if he's going to survive it before he-
No, Frank could not imagine it. To think of Jon tragically leaving him made him sob, tears invisible on his head. If Frank lost Jon, life wouldn't be the same for him. He didn't want to imagine those green eyes closed shut, his breathing nonexistent and, above all, the burning flame of his living youth gone.
Who's going to speak such gut-wrenching feelings? Frank was alone in this, and it distressed him badly.
His thoughts were cut when Jon arrived with a plate of rice with roasted chicken, placing it in front of Frank. "Made sure it was still warm." He was about to leave until he noticed that Frank didn't react at first. "Frank?"
Frank looked up towards the young man, a growing beard covering his face and curls ever so disheveled. "Sorry." The man took the fork from the table, picking some rice towards his mouth.
Jon chose to take a chair and sit next to him. Frank's heart was already bumping fast. "Why didn't you come to lunch? We - we were actually waiting for you."
What could he say? Frank couldn't put a phrase together before his mind collapsed, thinking about Jon sitting next to him. This was the closest they had been. He could even feel the scent of sweat and... chocolate Axe?
"Couldn't. I had to- to..."
No coherent words were said after, only stuttering. Frank was alone in this. He couldn't look at the man he was so infatuated with and express more than two words. He was lost. Completely lost.
"If you need some time..."
Frank stopped him before Jon could stand. "No, please. I need you to be here- No! I mean I don't want to be alone, Jon."
Jon looked down at Frank with clear consternation, shown by his frowning forehead before he sat again. "Of course. I will not leave you alone."
"Thank you." Frank appreciated how cooperative Jon can be. Jon offered the money from his inheritance for the sake of their album development, and also showed that he was willing to listen even with his growing frustration.
They went silent, with only the acute sounds of the fork picking chicken and chewing from inside his head.
What could be said?
"Thank you for heating my plate," Frank said softly, eating another piece of chicken.
Jon nodded, looking down at his hands before he looked up to Frank. He couldn't get the reason, but it surely did make Jon blush. Of course, Frank didn't see it.
"Frank, I wanted to show you something I was composing last night..."
"I love you."
The words slipped out of his lips like melting ice cubes. Frank stood still as a statue, and soon he started to scream, lowering down his head, pressing over the wooden desk.
He couldn't hear what happened around him, lost between his mind and his anxious heart. He understood when Jon shook him back to reality. "Frank! It's okay! Hey!"
Jon tried to touch him to ease him, but it only worsened Frank's panic. Jon took a deep breath, and waited for Frank to relax.
"... is it okay?" Frank murmured, with his head still down. His voice echoed through the papier-mâché. "Don't you hate me now?"
Jon's silence only made his chest to get tighter. His right leg began to shake, but it soon eased up when his soft voice was heard. Frank saw through the head's small holes that Jon leaned closer, right hand over the table.
"It is okay," Jon emphasized, showing to him a small smile from his pink lips, now covered by his thick beard.
It didn't relieve Frank enough, but he was calm that at least Jon didn't hate him.
"I just need to know something..." Frank held his breath. "Do you mean what you just said?"
Frank couldn't contain himself anymore. He didn't mind stuttering at all. "O-of course! You're amazing! How can someone not be mesmerized by you? How can I not be mesmerized by you?"
Frank raised his head and gripped his hands over the table. "Jon, you've changed me so much that it scares me... but I like it."
He was about to sob, but the best thing Jon did was to put his hand over the table. Tempting enough to be impossible to resist. As they held hands, Jon massaged his knuckles with his thumb, by soft irregular circles.
"Maybe we can talk about this better in my room." Jon kept his smile. Frank blushed just like after drinking tequila, but worse. "Let's see what I've composed. You can help me shape it better, and who knows?"
He chuckled, now intertwining their fingers. They fit so well, and Frank couldn't be more grateful for Jon's hands to be as large as his. "So, is it a yes or no?"
"Of course it is a yes." He immediately replied, his pale face coloring red through his cheeks and ears. "... I'm available for you, Frank."
That was enough. Frank couldn't be happier.
Even with his own struggle, it worked. He could be understood without needing a second voice. And above all, he could be loved... and that terrified him a lot.
But as they walked together, holding hands through the evening, Frank felt he could breathe and speak for himself.
Loving Jon was the way, right?