Gerard and Tracy Phillips after the Helena videw shoot. ONESHOT.
I was surprised to see him there. The crew and his band left hours ago for their hotel rooms and cozy homes in the buzzing Californian valley. He stayed and sat on the front pew, staring at where the coffin used to rest, still wearing the black three piece suit and red tie. I sat down beside him and tried to figure out exactly what it was he was looking at before focusing on his face; it was blank and lacking any visible expression.
"Gerard," I whispered tentivly. He gave me a sideways glance then went back to staring at the empty space in front of the alter. "Why are you still here?"
He sighed and turned to face me. "I don't know." Discomfort swelled up in me under his gaze. I don't know where it came from, maybe it was because I had only just met him earlier that day and the only thing that he had ever said to me before that was 'that dance was so beautiful.' He touched a soft finger to my cheek and a shiver ran down my spine. "You were so pretty today. Your dance...it was so...it made me cry you know." I didn't know how to feel, I didn't know how to react; so I did the best thing I could think of, I pulled him closer and into the most comforting embrace that I could manage. Gerards breath ghosted against my neck and I tried to surpress the urge to shiver again.
The image of tears rolling down his boyish cheeks wasn't something that I thought I would ever whitness, and I had a feeling that I was going to see it whether I wanted to or not. But he didn't cry, he held me tight for a few long moments before he lifted my chin with soft, pale fingers and pressed his lips to mine.
I couldn't breath.