Last year's wishes are this year's apologies.
Okay...first things first here, I should actually be writing my French essay right now, so ye should count yerselves lucky yer getting an update. I should be writing about some fuck in the nineteenth century or something in France and yada and yada and yada Bean Ni Godan will crucify me tomorrow for not doing it.
Just gonna start off by saying I got really bad, severe, traumatizing writer’s block this week, which is weird,because I never get writers block. You guys know I shovel out the first shite that furrows its way into my head. I think it was because I really didn’t wanna write this chapter because it’s about Gerard and Evan and I’ve been dreading this since the start. I know I’m making Gerard out to be like the worst person in history (which is a LAUGH because that man is about as threatening as a five foot three teenage girl (ahem) and he is just absolute lovely) but I actually felt so bad when I was writing this, because I was thinking about how people just fuck you over and then how cute couples can be, and then basically I started crying because I love my Gerard and Frank together so much. By ‘my Gerard and Frank’ I, of course, mean the gangster and his husband whom I have made up over the course of a few months.
Um...just quickly saying as well that I had so many ideas for the story, what with Gee coming home (yay) them going somewhere that is very exciting (yay) on their own and some lovely Frerardness (yay) and then CHRISTMAS (YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY)
As in, my story will feature the Way family celebrating Christmas. I’m an Athiest and even I fucking adore Christmas with all my soul.
So what I’m trying to say is that I have too many ideas so I’m making the story a tinsy bit longer, so that it might have about 100 chapters.
I dunno if anyone is even reading the story, but if you are, you are perfectly allowed to be angry at me. I’m very irritating, y’see, because when I’m in class and bored to fuck I just daydream about FOTGTD and possible scenarios. I’m sorry to say that most consist of either fluff or gore, my like two favourite things in stories.
So, yeah. Can I get a fuck yes for GANGSTA CHRISTMAS?!
Lornaigh. Not you.
Oh yeah, and its pretty short, due to writers block and shit. The next chapter, called ‘I Found a Boy’ is really short as well, and is just before Frank’s flashback. It’s reflecting on their relationship and stuff.
And is it wrong that I find Evan kinda hot in my imagination? Umm yes Lornaigh that is very strange
Umm as I have said before I feel really bad for Gerard here, specially at the end.
First of the Gang to Die
I’m Like a Lawyer With the Way I’m Always Trying to Get You Off (Me and You)
Two and a half years earlier
“Evan,” the black haired man whispered into his joined palms, “why did you do this to me, Evan?”
Evan could only continue crying, sobbing hopelessly into his hands, hot, salty tears streaming down his golden cheeks and disappearing around his collarbone. His heart was splitting in two, was being severed by an unknown force of nature that made both his chest and his throat pang and throb irritably. Since entering the house-hard to believe it was only five minutes ago-he had been experiencing nothing but pain, going through absolutely nothing but excruciating torture and shame. Telling Gerard had been the worst part-looking into his beautiful jade eyes and confessing to his husband of three years that he had been with someone else for the last year, had been visiting brothels and other such places of recreation since they had been having such dreadful fights. It broke the gangster; destroyed him into little pieces, had shocked him beyond all belief. Sure, the marriage had problems...but then, didn’t everybody’s?
Everything was silent within their bedroom. Gerard had his head buried in his hands, sniffing softly to himself, trying to shove the newly gathered information back into his mind and lock it up in some safe cage no one but himself would have access to. This couldn’t be happening; not to him, not to Evan, not to their union. The gold band on his finger seemed to burn and goad him.
“Gerard,” the other man, the one with the shockingly beautiful, warm and welcoming honeyduke eyes, croaked. “Gerard, please. Please, I am so sorry-“
“Don’t you lie to me,” Way growled, and Ricci could just feel the anger radiating from the killer. “Don’t you stand there and act like everything is going to be fine.” He looked up, red rims ringing his eyes, fists shaking slightly. His voice was a deep tone of black. “Nothing will ever be fine after this ever again. You have betrayed me, Evan.”
Ricci let out a small sob as he rocked himself in the chair by the bed-which Gerard would later remove from the house and use as a burning accomplice, as it always reminded him of its common user-he couldn’t deny any of it. It was his entire fault. He was unused to being this submissive form, not fighting back tooth and nail, not being able to screech and holler until Way would be forced to listen and/or obey his wishes or opinions. Evan was like Atticus Finch in that he was the same outside the court as he was inside-opinionated, persuasive, and unflinching.
But not now. He could not honestly turn to Gerard and tell him he was sorry, he was regretful; he didn’t give a shit about the other man-because none of that was true. The lie had been eating away at him, and goddammit, Alexander was putting pressure on him to leave this mysterious husband Evan was so adamant on keeping mum from his buddies at the office. He had promised his secret lover it would be over at the turn of the new year-it was now May. In a fit of remorse and sorrow over his lost position at the firm, he had confessed all to Gerard. It had hurt the Mafioso, he knew that, but he couldn’t help it. You can’t erase the past.
“I’m sorry, Gerard,” he mumbled through dewy lashes. This was being submissive, being so weak-this did not suit Evan Ricci in any way. He never cried or did something infantile or girly like that. “I know you’re upset at me at the moment, and I respect that, I do-“
“FOR FUCK’S SAKE, EVAN!” Gerard roared, bringing his hands down as he lost control, the vein on his neck standing out as his orbs glistened and jumped with fire and rage. “You’re not in the fucking courtroom anymore, don’t fucking talk to me like one of your convicts!” He stopped and stared at his husband-for the time being, anyway. “That’s who you’ve been fucking, huh? Some fucking juvenile delinquent or something, no doubt-“
“Don't be ridiculous!” Evan snapped, stepping closer to the raging gangster, pushing him back, but the chest underneath his palms did not give. Ricci could screech and cuss all he liked-when push came to shove, Gerard was always the stronger fighter. “You know I wouldn’t do it with a criminal!”
Way rolled his eyes. It took the fair haired one several moments to understand his mistake.
“I didn’t mean it like th-you know I love you, Gerard,” he said in that low, undeniable little purr that weakened the boss normally. Today, no signs of brittleness appeared. “And you know I can’t even say how sorry I am-“
“How can you be sorry?” Gerard murmured, not looking at Ricci. “How can you be sorry when you still love him?”
The lawyer closed his eyes and sighed.
“I can’t help it, Gerard.” He let his golden eyes flicker open-Gerard was glaring at him, the most malicious stare the twenty five year old had gotten in his whole life. “Maybe if we spent more time together-“
“Don’t. Don’t play that card. You know I work hard-“
“You kill people, Gerard, you kill innocent people who don’t deserve it! You’re an animal who takes life-“
"You are hardly one to talk about killing people, do you know how many innocent men are put on Death Row every year-“
“Do you know how hard it is walking into the office and acting like I don’t even know you are, let alone being married to you?” He searched the strained green glasses that bore into his velvet, soft amber ones. “That I’m married to the most brutal and wicked criminal in the whole country?”
Evan used his special trick in that one; guilt-tripping his lover. It worked normally. Gerard would shift or move uneasily, would look a little shamed. Never apologise, no, Way wasn’t the man for petty exchanges of ‘sorry’...but in the past he would somehow comfort Ricci. Not tonight.
The lawyer caressed his cheek and tried to soften up the furious murderer. The twenty seven year old shut his eyes, tears trailing from them, falling from his lashes once or twice, and pushed his hand away gently. As much as the younger would hurt him, he could never be violent towards him.
“Well, in that case, I’m sorry, Evan,” he said softly, voice barely reaching above a whisper, hitting the fair haired ears quietly, “I’m sorry that I am not up to your private standard of which you see fit to marry.” He cleared his throat and pierced the soul of the other with the icy stare. The next words was spat at Evan; sarcasm seeped from the syllables. “I apologize.”
“Gerard, I-“ words were failing him. Words were failing Evan Ricci, the best goddamn attorney in the State. “Please. You have to understand I find this hard, too-“
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Gerard snarled, heaving with effort. “My husband just came home to inform me he’s fucking some guy from the office and has been visiting brothels for the duration of our marriage, and that when I go killing these so called ‘innocent people’, he’s gone to his little law firm to try and GET OFF!”
“FUCK YOU!” Evan screamed, pulling at Gerard’s shirt, then digging his sharp nails into the arm of the mobster. “I’ve worked fucking hard for my lifestyle, I earn a living honestly, I went to-“
“LAW MOTHERFUCKING SCHOOL!” Gerard shrieked loudly, nearly tearing his hair out. This was so fucking frustrating, standing here, listening to this bullshit! “I fuckin know that, Evan, you wanna shove it in my face some more? Maybe get out the PhD and frame it, yeah?” They were right up to each other, nose-to-nose, seething with anger, the light pair scrutinizing the smouldering. “Because Gerard didn’t go to law school, and is such a let down to the crumbling world that is Evan Hugo Ricci-Way?” He raised an eyebrow-the younger stirred a little. “Oh, I’m sorry, how rude of me-it’s not Way, is it? No, it’s not; Evan’s too ashamed of his husband to bear his name, isn’t he?” The flinch said it all. “Oh yeah-not for Evan, fancy fucking Evan, too fucking good for anyone else, can’t even say sorry when he cheats on his own husband!” His voice cracked and gave as he started to cry properly. “Let’s focus on Evan and his problems, being ashamed of the person he married, and how hard it is, fucking two guys at once, yeah? Let’s just focus on Evan.” He finished, swatting away dissident tears from his cheeks. “Like we always fucking do.”
Silence swept across the room again, and Ricci bowed his head at his husband’s soft, shamed utterings. The only sound was the click of the clock in the corner.
“It’s him, isn’t it?” Gerard murmured, tone cracked and whipped. “The man you worked the case with.”
The fairer man closed his eyes as tears leaked from them. Gerard did nothing to comfort him.
“Alexander,” he whispered, and his heart was tugging at him as Way groaned. “He’s an intern.” Gerard cracked again-parts of him were shattering and crashing to the floor, like a fractured jug. “He was helping me with that murder-suicide I told you about, right?” It was asked as a source of meaning-as some type of reassurance, but the gangster did not appreciate the gesture. “Well...er...we got talking and stuff one day after work. Because you called and said you wouldn’t be home!” His voice raised and then fell suddenly-he was too upset to be angry with Gerard. “And he...he was staying late because he’s so dedicated, and so I stayed with him and we got talking about stuff. About music and food and trivial things. He’s...he’s so wonderful,” Evan breathed.
The boss looked up at him, glistening tears falling from his tear ducts and down his cheeks.
“You...you have killed me, Evan,” he grimaced, rubbing his temples and breathing deeply. “You have destroyed me.”
“I’m sorry, Gerard,” he said in a thin whine, tugging at black folds of material that was Gerard’s shirt. “Please, Gerard, I’m just so sorry, you know I-“
“You love me, right? You love me so much and you’d never do anything to hurt me, ever? You’ll always be there for me, always be with me, constantly lover in the direst of situations?” Gerard bore his jade jewels into the pit of Evan’s soul. His irises were electrifying and sharp, shocking the other. “You’ll be faithful to me, and never be cruel or devilish, never be the malevolent member of the relationship?” He began to tear up again, then brushing his cheek harshly. “Stop fucking lying, Evan, and face up to the fact that you have ruined us.”
“This is not my entire fault, you leave me all the goddamn time!” He screamed. “And when you do come back, you’re always too tired or too hurt to fucking do anything!”
“You knew that! You’ve known that since we started dating ten fucking years ago!” Insults flew as the star crossed lovers spat and snarled at each other. “Just now that Evan’s found a nice fuck that it matters, yeah?”
The aforementioned’s hand flew across Way’s cheek, a red handprint seeping up to his pallid visage and darkening his already sour mood.
“Leave,” the monotone ordered lowly. “I don’t want you ever near me again.”
“Gerard,” he squeaked, falling apart, “please! I love you so much, I can’t let you go, you’re my lover, I don’t care about the Mafia, I don’t care that you’re a killer, I don’t care about anything like that, I just love you,” he finished, tilting his chin up to try and press them to the gangster’s. “I don’t care, Gerard, I don’t care, I want you-“
“I am not the only one you want,” he said coldly, prying Evan’s smaller hands from him and letting them drop to the sides. “And I highly doubt you would choose me over him, anyway.”
Lack of denial made Gerard’s heart pierce with pain again.
“Indeed,” he muttered, and slipped his ring off his large finger, three years cropped inside the circle. “I was naive and ignorant to assume Evan Ricci would be off-limits for everyone else.”
“But Gerard, I...”he reached toward him again, a hand on his swelling cheek, trying to calm him with those beautiful golden brown globes. “You’re the first person I’ve ever loved. And I know we fight a lot, but...but I love you so much. I gave you my innocence, Gerard, I gave you my virginity-“
“Oh, don’t be a cunt!” Gerard snapped right in his soon-to-be ex-husband’s face. “You never had innocence, you were fucking attention seeker who just wanted to drink, fight and fuck for a good fucking time!” He was vehement-it was all coming out now. “You lost your virginity with your first boyfriend when you were sixteen, don’t you lie to me.” He inhaled deeply and raised an eyebrow out of rage rather than interest. “I didn’t go to law school, Evan, but I am not stupid.”
“I know you’re not-who told you that?” He demanded quickly, and then heard the guilt in his own voice. “I just-we didn’t, I promise, Gerard! That was something you do when you’re a kid, you know, I mean-“
“How far did he get?” Way drawled, voice wet with dark, twisted humour. He figured the situation allowed him to be vulgar. “Second base? Third base?” That false grimace, warped with rage. “Home run, Evan?”
The Italian was furious. “Stop disrespecting me, Gerard, matters of my personal life-“
“What am I, the fucking prosecution, Evan?” He screeched again, and then something popped into his mind. “Not committing statutory with the boy, are we?”
“Oh, fuck off,” the attorney seethed between his teeth. “He’s twenty one.”
“Twenty one, really? Five years, Evan, five fucking years. That’s a long time...half the time we have been involved, I believe.”
“We have something most couples don’t,” he said softly, pressing his hand on the muscley arm of the killer, biting his lip. “I never met someone who was gay before us, Gerard. I-“
“Don’t fucking play that card,” he sneered, rolling his eyes, “don’t pretend we won’t have problems just because we happen to be of the same sex, Evan. Don’t make the mistake of thinking I’ll just-“
“God, you are such an asshole. Oh my God, Gerard has an opinion that is automatically better than everyone fucking elses-“
“Look who’s talking, Mister I Plead the fucking Fifth, making our relationship like a court case-I swear afore God that you once called the cat the defendant!”
“I AM DOING MY JOB, GERARD-“
“YOU ARE NOT THE ONLY ONE EMPLOYED IN THIS HOUSEHOLD, EVAN, YOU DON’T FUCKING SEE ME RIPPING THE CAT’S EYES OUT AND CALLING IT JAMES, DO YOU?!”
"DON'T YOU FUCKING CUSS AT ME, GERARD, YOU AREN'T EMPLOYED, YOU KILL FOR A LIVING-"
"AT LEAST I DON'T FUCK EVERYONE I WORK WITH!"
A short, awkward silence. Then the shorter spoke up.
“Gerard.” He relaxed his shoulders, wiped the tears from his eyes, and set his jaw firmly. “Please. I love you.”
The gangster swayed on the spot, seeming to be thinking for just a moment. Then he bent down and opened his mouth about an inch from the mouth of his lover. For a moment Evan thought everything would be fine; he’d be cruising down easy street, fucking two men at the same time, both exceedingly good looking and wealthy. But then-
Gerard let Evan fall over as he let his lips pull back from the near-kiss, smirking.
“I am not stupid, Evan. You don’t love me if you go off having sex with other men behind my goddamn back. Now leave.Leave and don’t you ever think about coming back. You hurt me so much tonight, Evan-“ his voice cracked again, and he tried to calm himself. “You just fucking tore my heart out, you little shit.” He composed himself back to the heartless boss. “Go off and fuck someone, fuck your precious Alexander, fuck a hooker-fuck the goddamn grand jury if you want to!” Vulgarity achieves nothing, Gerard. “Just...please. Go.”
Evan bowed his head and placed his hand on the doorknob, small sobs wailing within his chest. If the room hadn’t been deathly silent, he wouldn’t have heard the tiny whisper that was meant for him, and only him.
“I adored you, Ev,” Gerard snivelled into his hands, shoulders shaking. “Why do you do this to me?”