Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Bones
Gerard knew he was probably going to get shit for this later, but he didn't care. If he was going to a party he was going to look good. He finished lining his eyes with black and tugged on the band shirt he'd stolen out of Mikey's closet earlier that day. Without another glance in the mirror, he turned and climbed the stairs out of his room.
Bert's car was parked in the drive when he exited the house, the windows were rolled down and some rap song was blasting out into the street. As soon as Gerard was seated, Bert eyed his outfit with a look of distain but didn't mention it, so Gerard counted it as a win.
*
The party was in full swing when the couple arrived, there were people making out against walls and empty beer bottles littered the lawn. Bert dragged his boyfriend through the open front door and into the living room, where his closest friends were situated with a girl, or two, in some cases, on their laps. He led Gerard over to a vacant armchair and pulled him down to sit on his left knee while accepting a beer from Quinn.
"No thank you," Gerard declined politely when offered one himself. He didn't want to get drunk tonight and managed to convince himself that it wasn't because of what Frank told him.
Bert jabbed him in his lower back, but he stuck to his guns and refused the beer. The conversation flowed around him about cars and girls; neither of which he was interested in, so he was left alone with his thoughts. Honestly? Gerard was scared. Frank had never lied to him before, so he extremely apprehensive of what the night could hold for him.
Around an hour later, a very drunk Jepha skipped into the room, hopping over the girl passed out in the doorway. "Got th' good stuff!" he squealed, brandishing a three-quarters full zip up bag of white powder. Gerard felt his blood run cold.
"Fucking finally," Bert cheered, shifting Gerard off his lap and onto the arm of the chair. He took the bag off the drunk and carefully used a drink coaster to separate the drugs into thin lines across the coffee table. In turn, each of the jocks leant forward and snorted two lines each.
After Bert had taken his lines, he looked expectantly up at his boyfriend with glassy eyes. Gerard hesitated, but shook his head, Frank's words floating around his head. Bert's face hardened and he rose from his position crouched on the floor.
"Can I talk to you outside a minute?" Gerard wasn't given time to answer before his boyfriend had his wrist clamped in a vice-like grip and was dragging him across the room. He was steered through the hallways of the house, carefully avoiding discarded clothes and bottles.
Bert shoved him out the door and into the empty garden. He backed him up against the wall, and pinned his bony wrists above his head.
"Are you trying to make a mockery of me?" Bert sneered, strangely sober for someone who'd been drinking and taking drugs for most of the night.
"n-no," Gerard whispered, turning his head away from Bert's furious eyes.
"Look at me," he released one of his hands and used it to turn his boyfriends face back to his, "are you trying to embarrass me? Do you know how humiliating it is when my bitch is the only one sober? And refusing to take my friends drugs?"
Gerard shook his head, but apparently is was the wrong answer as Bert raised his fist and smashed it into the side of Gerard's face. Said boy whimpered and closed his eyes as Bert started punching him with both hands on his torso and face. A knee came up to his crotch and he collapsed onto the grass, hand curling protectively around his groin.
"Bert!" one his friends called; Gerard didn't know his name, nor did he care, "I paid good money for your bitch, when are you going to get him to suck me off?"
Bert made subtle abortive gestures at the other male but when he looked down, Gerard was already gone.
*
With tears streaming down his face, Gerard limped round the side of the house and across the front yard. How could Bert do that to him? Prostituting out his boyfriend for his own benefit, people don't do that type of thing to their loved ones. He loved him… right? He touched the forming bruise on his jaw and spat blood out onto the pavement. He wiped furiously at his blotchy eyes—it wasn't worth his tears.
He didn't know how long he was walking for, but he let out a sigh of relief when he found the turning that lead onto Frank's street. He quickened his pace as much as he could when it still felt like his balls were on fire and crossed the empty road. It was probably nearing three am, so it wasn't like he expected Frank to be awake but he had hope.
The porch lights blinded him when he shuffled up the stairs and he had to cling onto the railing and wait for his eyes to adjust. Once he'd regained his vision he tentatively knocked once on the door before constantly banging. He couldn't bring himself to care about the consequences of an exhausted midget, he just needed to see the younger male.
Bert's car was parked in the drive when he exited the house, the windows were rolled down and some rap song was blasting out into the street. As soon as Gerard was seated, Bert eyed his outfit with a look of distain but didn't mention it, so Gerard counted it as a win.
*
The party was in full swing when the couple arrived, there were people making out against walls and empty beer bottles littered the lawn. Bert dragged his boyfriend through the open front door and into the living room, where his closest friends were situated with a girl, or two, in some cases, on their laps. He led Gerard over to a vacant armchair and pulled him down to sit on his left knee while accepting a beer from Quinn.
"No thank you," Gerard declined politely when offered one himself. He didn't want to get drunk tonight and managed to convince himself that it wasn't because of what Frank told him.
Bert jabbed him in his lower back, but he stuck to his guns and refused the beer. The conversation flowed around him about cars and girls; neither of which he was interested in, so he was left alone with his thoughts. Honestly? Gerard was scared. Frank had never lied to him before, so he extremely apprehensive of what the night could hold for him.
Around an hour later, a very drunk Jepha skipped into the room, hopping over the girl passed out in the doorway. "Got th' good stuff!" he squealed, brandishing a three-quarters full zip up bag of white powder. Gerard felt his blood run cold.
"Fucking finally," Bert cheered, shifting Gerard off his lap and onto the arm of the chair. He took the bag off the drunk and carefully used a drink coaster to separate the drugs into thin lines across the coffee table. In turn, each of the jocks leant forward and snorted two lines each.
After Bert had taken his lines, he looked expectantly up at his boyfriend with glassy eyes. Gerard hesitated, but shook his head, Frank's words floating around his head. Bert's face hardened and he rose from his position crouched on the floor.
"Can I talk to you outside a minute?" Gerard wasn't given time to answer before his boyfriend had his wrist clamped in a vice-like grip and was dragging him across the room. He was steered through the hallways of the house, carefully avoiding discarded clothes and bottles.
Bert shoved him out the door and into the empty garden. He backed him up against the wall, and pinned his bony wrists above his head.
"Are you trying to make a mockery of me?" Bert sneered, strangely sober for someone who'd been drinking and taking drugs for most of the night.
"n-no," Gerard whispered, turning his head away from Bert's furious eyes.
"Look at me," he released one of his hands and used it to turn his boyfriends face back to his, "are you trying to embarrass me? Do you know how humiliating it is when my bitch is the only one sober? And refusing to take my friends drugs?"
Gerard shook his head, but apparently is was the wrong answer as Bert raised his fist and smashed it into the side of Gerard's face. Said boy whimpered and closed his eyes as Bert started punching him with both hands on his torso and face. A knee came up to his crotch and he collapsed onto the grass, hand curling protectively around his groin.
"Bert!" one his friends called; Gerard didn't know his name, nor did he care, "I paid good money for your bitch, when are you going to get him to suck me off?"
Bert made subtle abortive gestures at the other male but when he looked down, Gerard was already gone.
*
With tears streaming down his face, Gerard limped round the side of the house and across the front yard. How could Bert do that to him? Prostituting out his boyfriend for his own benefit, people don't do that type of thing to their loved ones. He loved him… right? He touched the forming bruise on his jaw and spat blood out onto the pavement. He wiped furiously at his blotchy eyes—it wasn't worth his tears.
He didn't know how long he was walking for, but he let out a sigh of relief when he found the turning that lead onto Frank's street. He quickened his pace as much as he could when it still felt like his balls were on fire and crossed the empty road. It was probably nearing three am, so it wasn't like he expected Frank to be awake but he had hope.
The porch lights blinded him when he shuffled up the stairs and he had to cling onto the railing and wait for his eyes to adjust. Once he'd regained his vision he tentatively knocked once on the door before constantly banging. He couldn't bring himself to care about the consequences of an exhausted midget, he just needed to see the younger male.
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