FicWad

The room was dark and warm, filled with the scent of cheap alcohol and stale cigarettes. It was only three in the afternoon but in this place the time was irrelevant; the only small windows were behind the bar, and the curtains were drawn, dust-coated. The walls were lined with half-awake men, eyelids drooping heavily, and girls with personalities as fake as their Gucci handbags. Gerard's eyes widened as Frank pulled him to the bar, grinning.
“Uh we'll have, two of the regular.” the barman nodded, eyes scrutinizing Gerard, and then turned around and began to fill the chipped glasses.
“Haven't seen you in here for a while, Frank.” he said as he handed them the beers. “Who's this?”
“This is Gerard. We're friends. Right Gee?” Frank took the beer in one hand and curled the other subtly around Gerard's waist, who simply nodded in response.
“Yeah. Friends.” he muttered, trying to wiggle away. In all honesty, Frank's hand could've happily stayed there all day in his opinion – but his fiancée was telling him otherwise. She wasn't even fucking there and she was nagging away at him...
So he kept still, not warming to Frank's touch but no longer trying to get away. Smirking, Frank steered him to a thick wooden table in the corner of the room with a long, cushioned sofa running along the wall. Frank sat first, and Gerard was unsure of where to sit – next to him? Opposite him? On him?
Definitely not the last one. Frank patted the space next to him, eyes wide, and Gerard sat down obediently and sipped at his beer.
Bitter, foamy nostalgia slipped into his mind. The taste of the stuff, the weight of the glass in his hand...would Frank be doing this if he'd known the alcohol problems Gerard had suffered with before? Would Frank even care?
“What're you thinking?” he asked inquisitively. Rudely.
“I-I'm...nothing.” Gerard looked hopelessly into his eyes, the lie sounding pathetic.
“Aw shit, that's boring. I guess not a lot goes on in there then?” he retorted, signalling to Gerard's head. “I'm joking, I bet a motherfucking lot does go on in that place. It must be interesting, tell me!” he leant back and stretched his arms out, shirt clinging to his well-shaped body.
“About how I haven't drunk anything for like, years.” Gerard gulped. “And this is bringing back memories. It's not good.” he shook his head and voluntarily poured more of the stuff down his burning throat.
“How'd you manage that? Girlfriend?” he raised his eyebrows.
“Sort of. I mean I was like..alcoholic and obviously she couldn't live with that. I mean neither could I, I'd probably be dead by now.” he was muttering, running his hands through his tangled hair. “But I don't care.” he shrugged and drank some more – three quarters of the stuff had gone, poured down into his empty body. Filling his insides, a replacement for his lack of comfort and love...
“You don't?” Frank pondered, watching Gerard glug it down hungrily and imagining him putting away pint after pint after pint, never stopping. That lifestyle would so suit him, he thought shallowly.
“No. Screw her.” Swallowing the remains, Gerard slammed the glass down attracting the attention of some people nearby, and glared at them before turning away to feast his eyes on Frank again. “Next.” he grinned sheepishly and Frank pushed accross his own glass; Gerard took a big, greedy sip.
“You know Gee, you should probably slow down.” he bit his lip and Gerard stared, temporarily mesmerized. Frank's tongue emerged and wetted his lips slowly, aware that Gerard was watching and not afraid to take advantage. He stopped on his lip ring and tugged it slightly, a smirk forming, and pulled his beer back from Gerard after allowing him a couple of sips.
“I want.” he stated, and downed almost half.
As the hours passed and the sky outside darkened, the table became cluttered with glasses of all sizes as the sky became cluttered with stars and Gerard was giggling foolishly. Frank had pulled him onto his lap and they were talking, faces inches apart but unable to gain control of themselves for long enough to make anything happen.
“S-so, more?” Gerard grinned widely, baring all of his teeth.
“Dude, your teeth are fucking weird. They're all...small... and pretty.” Frank's mouth dropped open in wonder and he stared at Gerard's wide, open mouth.
“Y-yeah, more!” he called over distractedly to the bartender, who laid down two more glasses and then walked over to them, throwing the tea towel on to the counter.
“Guys, it's getting late, you two will need to leave in about five minutes.” he informed them, rolling his eyes at their giggly response.
“Okay, guys, we'll leave now,” Frank responded. “Get'off me fucker.” his constant smile widened and he pushed Gerard off, causing him to trip slightly on his own feet and to fall backwards awkwardly.
“Hey, fuck you, that hurt!” Gerard frowned slightly but laughed still, picking himself up and grabbing Frank's wrist.
“Guys, guys, guys we're leaving!” he laughed at his own hilarity and stamped out with Frank in tow, through the mostly empty room and into the cold night air.
“A-aw, it's chilly.” Gerard's teeth began to chatter and he walked more timidly down the road, letting go of Frank.
“Dude, it's fucking freezing.” Frank caught up with Gerard and put a hooded arm around him again in a valiant attempt to warm him up. Suddenly, there was the the sound of a phone ringing – Gerard pulled his phone out and, nearly dropping it, brought it to his ear, ignoring the seven unread messages and eleven missed calls.
“Darling, where are you? It's almost midnight! I've called you about a hundred times!” the frantic voice of his girlfriend buzzed into his ear and this time, he did drop his phone. Scurrying to pick it up again, Frank chortled drunkenly in the background. “and who's that? Who are you with? Gerard, talk to me!”
“S-sorry, I'm just out, I'll be back.” he managed to just about form his words, but they slurred slightly and she detected that at once.
“You're drunk. You are. I'm coming to get you, you can't drive home drunk. What have you been doing? Who are you with? You stopped all this!” she shrieked, her voice becoming high-pitched. “Wait by the car,” she breathed, obviously trying to calm herself down, “and I'll come and find you, I'll get the bus. I'm very angry, Gerard, and very disappointed.” Beep.
“Aw, Frank, she hung up on me!” Gerard shoved the phone dismissively back into his pocket, rolling his eyes and wiping them in mock-sadness.
“Don't cry Gee, she's not fucking worth it!” he jumped forward and wrapped his arms around Gerard enthusiastically, resting his head on his shoulder. Gerard didn't even think twice before enveloping Frank back, hugging him and sniffing. They walked a little further, still slightly entwined, and Gerard started to hum.
“Whatcha singing?” Frank enquired, yawning.
“I don't even know.” Gerard giggled, detaching himself from Frank and leaning against the wall. “Do I have to have a reason to hum?” he retorted.
“No, but you have to have a reason to take your hands off of me. Now that's not fair.” Frank was grinning still and he stopped, standing directly in front of Gerard and looking at him. Looking at that dark, heavy hair, the long eyelashes and the beautifully curved face. “You look really fucking nice in the dark.” he mused, sort of to himself. “Like, I just think you suit the night.” A deep look on his face, Frank put both of his arms just above Gerard's shoulders and leant much closer to him. Neither of them were thinking. Neither of them were sober enough to properly consider consequences, reactions, purpose...anything.
And then they kissed, lips crashing and eyes sliding shut. Gerard's hand found their way to Frank's waist and pulled him forward, running distractedly up his back and to his neck where Frank moaned enthusiastically. The warm, wet sound of their lips meeting was interrupted by the authoritative sound of heeled footsteps, and Gerard pulled away, almost immediately losing track what had just happened and seeing some of his fiancée's good friends.
“Hey!” he waved at them ignorantly, smiling. They walked past and one of them waved back tentatively. “Gerard?” she said, raising her eyebrows.
“Yes?” he replied, still grinning. She looked perturbed and carried on, hurrying her friends along and walking around the corner.
Frank giggled. “Oops.” he stepped back and started to walk away, heading towards the tattoo shop and around the corner to the back alley next to the car park.
The usual warning sirens weren't ticking away in Gerard's intoxicated mind as he stumbled after Frank, hearing the heavy engine of a bus pull up near by. It didn't occur to him that his girlfriend would be on that bus, that he should stop trying to make out with this attractively dangerous tattoo of a man. Nor did it occur to him to attempt to sober up, on any level.
“She'll be here in a second,” he slurred, pulling Frank back. “To the car, and beyond!” he shouted and off ran awkwardly, almost losing his balance a number of times before reaching the shiny vehicle and waiting for Frank to catch up.
“I'm gonna go,” he breathed, hurrying his words, “Harry Potter.” he said, attempting a straight face, “This is where I leave you. You are safe now.” he giggled crazily and patted Gerard on the head, loving his own ability to quote Harry Potter and stumbling away down the alley. It didn't occur to him to worry about the small, drunk man stumbling alone through the darkness.
“Gerard?” he heard the clipped, feminine voice calling through the car park, and rolled his eyes, although he wasn't sure why.
“What?”he called back, seeing a slim figure appear a few cars away.
“Oh, what a relief, you're here!” she dashed over to him and stopped tentatively, just in front of him, and looked him up and down. “You're a mess, Gerard, do you have the keys?” her eyes skimmed over his very prominent boner, but she said nothing, simply looking away in disgust. He nodded, still smiling like a fool, and pulled them out of his pocket. With them fell a few rizla papers, but they floated to the ground unnoticed in the dark. She grabbed the keys off of him and unlocked the car. “Get in.” she said, sharply.
He obeyed and clambered awkwardly into the passenger seat, humming still.
“Shut up.” she said, cutting into the darkness. Gerard didn't, and continued to hum for all he was worth. “So, who were you with?” she asked as she started to drive, a panicky element still evident in her voice. “Why did you let this happen? Tell me! Are you cheating on me with...with that Karla girl?”
Gerard choked slightly, bursting into a conveniently timed coughing fit and then starting to giggle. “Oh no, oh no no no! You're so judgemental, stop it.” looking out of the window, he grinned heavily in contrast with his aggressive words. “and really, Karla?” he snorted. “As if. She's not even hot.” he leant his warm forehead against the cold window and shivered, hoping for home. Hoping for beer. Hoping for that stupid girlfriend of his to shut up.
“And am I hot?” she asked, raising her eyebrows. He quickly scanned her frown, her tight bun, her constantly high level of tension and need.
“Not really.” he pulled a 'too bad' face and shut his eyes, enjoying the scathing silence that she left him with.

~

Crisp sheets, heavy duvet, pounding headache.
Oh, christ, no.
Gerard had a hangover, and a serious one at that. He pulled the duvet over his head and rubbed his eyes, trying to remember the previous night's events, trying to block out the ringing in his ears. He remembered Frank, lots of Frank...and lots of alcohol. Shit. He opened his eyes, panicking, and saw that he was in his own bed with his own clothes on – still the skin tight jeans, but slightly looser from wear – and the sweaty Iron Maiden shirt. There was also a thin piece of paper, a note...
My friends told me you were with that Iero guy from your work. I've gone to talk to him, back by half 11 at the latest. Don't do anything silly x
He frowned, casting the note aside and rolling out of bed, sitting exposed on the carpeted floor and allowing what he'd read to sink in. He heard the door slam shut and the crunch of gravel – that would be his fiancée.
Leaving the house to talk to Frank.
To talk to Frank who still fully believed that Gerard was a flaming closet case. A Frank who most certainly wouldn't refrain from telling her that if he got the chance.
Gerard pulled himself up frantically and hurried into the bathroom, hardly bothering to check his appearance but consoling himself with the fact that he'd at least been in the presence of a mirror. He rushed downstairs but his limbs were moving faster than his clogged, painful mind and he hated himself for letting the booze control him. Seeing his shoes stacked neatly with the others he pulled them on and tucked the laces into his odd socks – one blue, one green – and wrenched the front door open, not caring about bring a key.
Trudging to the garage, Gerard pulled out his bike and mounted it, almost tripping in the effort, and began to cycle. He didn't care what he looked like, didn't care that his head was fucking killing him and that he'd probably die of not being able to breathe properly because he was so unfit. He just wanted to get there and stop either Frank or his girlfriend from making things a hundred times worse than they already were.
But there had been a kiss, a kiss on the end of her letter – did that mean she still cared? Damn, Gerard thought. Then he shook himself – no, I want her to care. That's good. She's forgiven me.
Speaking of kisses, hadn't there been one last night? Pushed against the wall of some shop, when her friend had walked past...
No. No no no no no. He forced that thought out of his mind before he either despised himself entirely, despised Frank entirely or...got really turned on again. But the latter was pretty unlikely, considering his wrecked condition and his current need to pedal like it was the end of the world.
His breaths became shorter and sharper, and after tense minutes of flitting through morning traffic he eventually reached the tattoo parlour, panting and dumping the bike against the front of the shop, not caring about it being stolen or vandalised. He yanked the door open to reveal his fiancée, hair neatly tied back and looking squeaky clean, waiting for Frank to finish tattooing a customer. He leant against the doorway, head rushed with relief and the inability to breathe; he pushed down the urge to giggle because she was actually waiting her turn to have a go at Frank. If it was him, he would've just interrupted him mid-tattoo and not have given a single fuck. Maybe.
She looked him up and down sceptically, folding her arms and then looking away deliberately. He sat down as far away from her as possible.
Moments later Frank finished and the customer left, satisfied, throwing a curious glance at the pristine woman and her filthy partner, who sat awkwardly waiting for something to happen.
Frank seemed entirely unaffected – he obviously didn't have a hangover, he was used to drinking that much on a work night and he raised his eyebrows at the sorry sight of Gerard.
“Hey Gerard, lookin' good.” he clicked his tongue and glazed his eyes over the woman sat before him, who stood up in an attempt to gain authority. She was taller than him, but he still had the most presence and held the power.
“I would like to have a word with you.” she spoke. He didn't respond and simply looked at Gerard, smirking slightly, who stood up and wobbled a little in the background.
“I've been informed that you and my...boyfriend, to whom I am engaged...were out drinking last night, without my permission.” she stated.
“He doesn't need your...'permission'...to have a good time. He's obviously lonely with you. Have you ever see-”
“Don't contradict me. I think I have the right to control him slightly more than you do in this situation, Mr Iero, as he is my fiancée and NOT yours.”
“He'd rather be mine, though, wouldn't you Gerard?”
Both faces turned towards his and he sighed desperately, flailing his arms slightly.
“Gerard?” his wife said sharply.
“I'd rather be with you, of course.” he said to her, and rolled his eyes when she'd turned away, flopping back down onto the big chair. Frank shook his head pityingly.
“Wrong answer, bastard. You're more attracted to me than you ever were to her. Didn't your friends tell you what they saw last night?” he directed the last question to Gerard's girlfriend and her head snapped up inquisitively. “He's like the most flaming homosexual I have ever met, if you hadn't realised.” he nodded towards Gerard.
“Saw what? What are you talking about? They'd tell me if anything happened, I know they would.” she glared at Frank and Gerard, head turning constantly. Frank stormed over to Gerard and pulled him up before kissing him quickly, harshly, not how it had felt last night despite their drunkenness. Gerard kissed back half-heartedly, too busy being shocked at himself to really engage in what was going on.
He pulled away suddenly, a look of pure surprise on his face.
“Honey, I'm sorry, can we...talk about this at home?” he looked bitter.
“Yeah, talk about it at home, honey.” Frank muttered, rolling his eyes and walking away. She looked at Gerard in anger.
“D-don't call me that when you've been...k-kissing that thing!” she signalled towards Frank, who shrugged apologetically and turned away.
“Shut the fuck up, Frank.”Gerard said. “And you, shut the fuck up too.”
“Gerard, you never use language like that!” she gasped.
“I did yesterday, when we were arguing, and you didn't care then. But now you mention it – no, I don't, not even when we're fucking.” he put his hands on his hips and furrowed his eyebrows. “I mean, who doesn't swear when they screw? I don't, when I have sex with you. What does that suggest? That it's no fucking good?”
Frank turned around, smirking at Gerard's sudden boldness.
“You tell her, Gee!” he muttered.
“Shut up!” he shot back at him, and with a scathing look to both of them, he grabbed the keys out of his wife's hand and stormed out of the shop, leaving her to cycle home. He wasn't working that day – Frank could spend the whole day all alone, he deserved as much.

Gerard sat in the bathroom with the door locked, the curtains drawn and the lights off, tears falling constantly down his pale face. They wouldn't stop coming, and his sobs echoed loudly in the tiled, empty room. He was alone. Nothing but regret, embarrassment and self-hatred were present in his mind; maybe a tiny bit of lust, but that was covered by denial.
I'm straight. Or maybe, a little bit not straight. But I swear, I like girls, I do...he saw himself as pathetic, hopeless, lost. She'll leave me and I'll only have him, a gay sex pest phoning my house when I'm fucking masturbating. Failure.
The last word threw itself back and forth around his mind. He'd gotten nowhere in life, and he had no potential. Nobody really understood – he didn't care how much like a moody teenager he sounded, it was true. Nobody understood, or ever would.
He curled up against the door, hearing the crunching sound of his girlfriend on the gravel, and closed his eyes, surrendering to the tears threatening to pour out of him.




- Be proud of me! I updated quick. Has this temporarily satisfied your needs people +_+ Don't have any proper lessons left, free time is a-coming. Hope you enjoy this chapter! xoxoxo