FicWad

An imperceptible amount of morning light began to caress the curtains like water the heavy black drapes were unable to contain. Of the two beds in the disarrayed hotel room, two forms in a collage of sheets occupied only one bed. There was quiet throughout the room, and a slight chill which is what began to rouse one of the persons more than the growing morning outside.
The heavy fog in his brain was thick, and he attempted to cling to the frayed edges of his dreams in frustration. He kicked his legs at the sheets, momentarily unaware of the companion against him, but soon surrendered. He could already tell by the chill on his pale cheeks that it was much warmer under the quilt. After a few more futile minutes attempting to slip back under the veil, he opened his eyes to the dark and the dim unfamiliar room around him. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dark through the pounding that began between his eyes. He pulled himself up to sit, and pinched hard at the bridge of his nose in order to shake it. A small notice in his mind told him to check the time. No panic yet, although he also couldn't recollect any of his scheduled activities for the day, he was used to sleeping in, but this morning felt different, disorienting, and somewhat peculiar.
He wasn't used to being alone, so he thought. He glanced around for his brother, Mikey, listened intently for running water or a possible commotion in the room next door but nothing sounded out of the ordinary. Five minutes later he heard a thunder of feet, which he hoped might be his other band mates having a rowdy morning and perhaps bringing him coffee, but he realized they sounded too light and faded down the hall.
In a moment of resolve to face the sharp air in the room, he flipped the sheet in a wide gesture and swung his bare legs over the edge of the bed. He glanced down at himself, perplexed. Then gently behind him, he could tell quite close, he heard a soft whimper.
Whipping around his stomach leapt into his throat before falling heavily as he took in the pale shape of a woman's bare shoulders and back, her loose hair- either dark brown or even black, splayed against the pillow obscuring her other features. His momentary surprise quietly slipped to a contained anxiety. He looked back into the depths of the dark room, down at him self, and then back at her. He took notice of the dark shapes, tattoos he could barely make out in the dark, covering her sides and arms, and the slope of her exposed back. Bravely, curiously, he moved the hem of the sheet with the tips of his fingers away from it and glanced down to the extent of her bare skin, but the vulnerability roused her briefly and when she shifted again in an unconscious search for warmth, he quickly recoiled.
He tripped over loose clothes tossed about the floor and stepped into his jeans when he found them. He could hear the girl surfacing from sleep, making bubbles of sound from beneath the surface of the veil of unconsciousness. As swiftly as he could without making too much noise, he cinched the waist of his pants and crossed to the bathroom in a few long strides. He pulled the door shut behind, heart thumping firmly on the underside of his ribs, being sure to push the latch down without making a click. He chided himself for his fear, but he didn't know how to handle her waking just yet. His mind raced with attempting to connect the scattered memories from the night before and the next steps to handle the situation.
He switched on the light and again pinched the bridge of his nose as his eyes suddenly adjusted to the fluorescent lights. He sighed relief and ran his hands over Mikey and Frank's things- razors, deodorant, toothbrushes, and even scraps of paper from numerous magazines; small pieces of the familiar that would fit on a bus crowded with 6 souls. The bus was what felt more like home to the boys of the band My Chemical Romance, not the series of similar yet foreign hotel rooms. So this was his room- so to say, but now who was the girl?
His nerves spiked the second he heard the television switch on, and the sound of static quickly hushed. From beneath the door he could tell she had turned on a couple of the lights, or at least thrown open the curtains. He could only imagine what she must also be feeling and thinking about waking up alone in a strange room.
Wondering about the thoughts that must be wandering through her head struck him, and he realized his foolishness. He should be able to man up for his actions, uncharacteristic as they might be. He didn't normally, despite the infectious energy of their shows and the exuberant confidence he felt when standing on stage beneath the lights, give in to distractions like women, but his weakness was alcohol and it possessed him, like now, at the most inopportune times. Unfortunately, he could tell by the pounding in his temples that he had allowed the evil spirit in again, and now would have to answer for his actions.
He decided that some routine would calm his nerves. He let the tap run over his hands, splashed luke warm water on his face and his long jet black hair, and hurriedly brushed his teeth to feel fresher and more awake. After washing some of the lost night away, he felt obviously more relaxed and better able to handle what waited. With one last vigorous slap to the face to energize himself, he put his hand on the knob, at the count of three opened it, and stepped out of his haven.
His eyes, having already adjusted to the brightness of day, didn't change much but the moment he envisioned the same pale and colored back with a shield of dark auburn hair once horizontal and now sitting upright on the corner or the bed he needed to allow his eyes to focus. His hand was already working through his bangs nervously, but had another second of hesitation when she didn't turn to acknowledge his presence.
"Um, uh g-good mornin'." He stammered tepidly, approaching her with cautious and calculating steps judging her every reaction, but still she didn't turn. "H-how you feelin'?" He said again. This time she turned and flashed a simple, school-girl smile.
"Like I just came up from the deep end."
Gerard gave an awkward chuckle, "Yeah, me too." He had run out of steps between the two of them and rested his knee against the mattress weighing his next move. Her nonchalance despite continuing to dress modestly as if he wasn't even present cooled his nerves and he no longer felt intimidated. There was something kind and demure in her behavior, but her bare flesh also spoke of a confidence and comfort in that skin that was somewhat calming. A part of him supposed this was what must have summoned the spirit in the first place. He saw her shirt laying with his together a short distance and reached for both, handing it to her.
“Thank you.” She slipped it on. They caught eyes for a second; an awkward almost silly smile glimmered on her lips until she bite down for control. “Hey.” Her voice cut and suddenly her eyes shied, flashing down and then back at him. “I can’t believe I’m asking this, but you’re name was J-Jer-“
“Gerard.” He offered again raking his fingers through his hair. A blush rose to her high cheekbones.
“Right. Shit. Gerard. I remember now.” Again their eyes lingered with what their voices didn’t yet have the ability to exchange. She held out her hand in a truce.
“I’m Calyx, or just call me Caly.”
“Yeah, Caly, that’s right.” She cracked a genuine smile for the first time.
“Fuck off; you didn’t know my name either.” His grin, one that broke slightly to the right, was hard to contain at being called out so assertively, but she seemed playful- not insulted. He could tell she was just as lost about how to handle the other as he was so why not work together to salvage the situation. “So, what do you remember about last night? You got a smoke?”
“Yeah,” He stood to fetch them from the bedside table, and lite one for himself and then hers enjoying the delicate way she held it between her lips and exhaled a plume without using her hands.
“Not much only pieces, but maybe when I shake this hangover," He said rubbing his brows. "Probably more will come to me." Calyx bobbed her head idly in agreement.
"Well, usually doesn't- at least the important pieces, but I've only ever blacked out like twice before." Her countenance fell with the recollection of an unpleasant memory or thought, and she began to finish her cigarette in deep decisive breaths. Gerard regarded it as if she was hyperventilating with smoke.
"L-look, I wish I could say something appropriate, but I've never really been in this predicament before, surprisingly I suppose. I mean, I guess I sort of have, but I handle myself pretty well." He trailed off, wondering if he should or should not go into detail about his alcoholism, tour life, or how in several ways he was just different. He had always felt that one night stands or casual frivolity, especially in his profession, led to disconnected memories, people to avoid, potential tabloid fodder, and other such things one should elude. With life as unorthodox as it is, why complicate it by succumbing to common weakness that would plague him where ever he went as long as he lived this life.
He shook his head to dispel the gathering thoughts. It was too much at once. All of it was irrelevant because here he was sitting next to one such night, attempting to simplify as best he could.
"I just don't really do this-"
"Neither do I!" She cut sharply, startling him. "I've never just woken up to fi-" She broke away and digressed, exhaling, and readjusting her posture. She crossed the room to where her purse laid strewn on an available desk within a three strides, and deliberately fished out her cell phone. He waited to see what else she might say, afraid to fuel another burst accidently.
She pressed buttons absently on the phone, but snapped it shut, and tossed any stray items into the bag making as if to leave.
She paused with both hands on the desk, weighing her thoughts just as Gerard had previously. "Look, let's skip through to what I'm assuming we both realize. Whether or not we can remember the steps, we ended up here- together." Behind Calyx's lids she saw brief flashes of Gerard's face amongst an undulating crowd of shapes and grey, looking down at a mahogany bar when a drink slid into her hand, looking up she saw him grinning expressively. A few more blurry cuts of the crowd and a car, and then she broke away, turning towards him sitting on the bed. "I need to ask you if you can recall using any protection at some point." The request fell flat to the floor, in the rooms next door however life began to stir. The sounds of feet, buzzing television sets, and the thumping and zipping of suitcases framed their dead air.
"I don't know." He sniffed, rubbed his nose, and shook his bangs in futility. "I honestly don't think so, I didn't find anything and I don't feel like I did. Sorry."
"I'm sure it's alright." She shrugged. "I'm only being paranoid. It's more that my life is just very chaotic right now, and any...consequences, would just be," She tasted the words in her mouth, "Another fucking entree. Y' know?" He agreed. "I'm just kicking myself for doing something I never thought I would, don't fret about it. I'll get out of your hair." She turned to hide her face, and finish collecting the last of her things together, preparing to make her official exit. Her welcome, she felt, had stayed.
Gerard on the other hand felt an inclination to reach out for her, comfort her in some way because he could see past the armor to the insecurity festering underneath. He understood the words his beloved grandmother once shared about 'a women's burden', realizing once the hotel door 917 closed between them cutting their very short relationship, his fear and trepidation would evaporate but hers would linger and possibly transform into guilt or even self contempt. The idea filled him with a pang of remorse and responsibility for his involvement.
He fetched a pen from the desk, and approached her side.
"Caly?" Although reclusive, she turned to face his kind round face that lowered toward her to speak softly. "Take this will you?" He handed her a scrap of paper like it was a hundred dollar bill. "It's all of my contact info, cell, e-mail, and home address. I'll be on the road for the next few months, but I always check in to base camp, and I’d love to hear from you. Not even if anything happens, just if you ever need anything, and even to let me know you're all right. I'd love to hear from you." She accepted it generously.
"Thank you, Gerard, I appreciate it."
"I need to hear from you, and know you're okay. So, please."
"I will. I'm not okay right now, but I will be, I promise." They both cracked smiles that dispelled the remaining tension and loosened the somber feeling of their goodbye. When she grabbed her purse, they realized the moment of separation had arrived and felt surprisingly reluctant. Being in proximity to touch, for the first time he felt the magnetism that signaled when he was close to something important.
"I want you to know, Cal, I can see why- I mean from what I can tell, and how you are, I can see why I did what I did." Again she smiled kindly at him, warmed by the compliment of sorts. With a sense of bravery from his words, Calyx rose up on the balls of her feet slightly and kissed the nape of his neck below his left ear. She thought it an intimate but also simple gesture, however once she was close enough to smell his skin, an animal in her stomach began to rouse. She could feel the warmth of his pulse beneath her lips and tasted his skin. She let them linger as long as she could allow, but relinquished him as quickly as she kissed him.
"Good bye, Gerard." Without allowing an answer or her heart to begin pumping any hesitation through her veins, she made a move for the door, and severed the link between them with a decisive clip. Her ears focused on possible sounds behind her as she briskly made to the elevator, but he didn't open the door in chase, and by the time the elevator closed on her she was grateful he didn't. It was simpler like that.
Closed in the confined space, and alone for the first time with her thoughts, she took the time to close her eyes and focus on the most vivid memory of last night. Focusing on the smell of his skin, she took a deep breath to remember it.
She felt the leather beneath her creaking, the smell of the car around her, and saw his face returning to meet hers again and again with his hands flashing beneath her shirt, around her back, and plunging beneath again. It was a whirl through the fog, but she felt around for the most concrete items almost frustrated she didn’t have more. Her corporeal body reacted to the recollection of straining against her clothes and the leather. She felt him move against her, and use her as a restraint, pulling her closer.
It was too much to bring forth at once, and she unchained her eyes to let in the light, chasing away the last of the dark. The ride to the lobby felt tedious, but before her resolve broke the doors opened and she met with the bustle and life of the real world beyond a bedroom.
Hotel concierges shuffled suitcases on gilded gurneys; patrons ate breakfast and chattered to a symphony of cutlery, leaving hardly any audible room for conversation. She detoured to the kitchen, feeling her stomach react to the scent of brewing coffee and the aroma of citric juices. She slipped in line and waited patiently for the libations. She poured a glass of everything, milk to coat the stomach, orange juice for flavor, and coffee for comfort. She craved everything but didn't seem to have an appetite, so she settled with the coffee, softened with cream and sugar.
She began watching the people exercising their routines around her, lost in the sounds of commotion. Old business men chatted and watched the morning statistics, young children pulled at their mothers, and several familiars like her shuffled like zombies in pajamas, nursing the coffee pot.
Her eyes fooled her momentarily into believing Gerard came to the lobby as well, but realized, no, it wasn't him but the eyes were the same. Her uncouth staring caught the young man’s attention and he looked up from his cup and gave her a shy glimmer of a smile. The warmth from his drink dusted his dark rimmed glasses with fog, and she childishly giggled at his frustration, removing them for cleaning. When Mikey looked back however, the girl was gone, only a half drunk cup remaining where she once stood. He searched the nearby faces but hers was absent, and the sun glaring through the windows outside forced him to turn away.