FicWad

Chapter 14

“FUCK! GERARD, RUN!”

“I can’t run anymore, Bert…”

Gloved hands close around my wrists…

“Gerard, wake up!”

Bert’s voice pulls me out of my nightmare. He’s sitting up in bed, cradling me like a baby. His gentle, worried eyes meet mine and I burst into tears.

“Shhh, baby. It’s okay.” Bert reassures me. He pulls me closer protectively.

“D-Don’t leave me…” I sob, my face pressed into his bare chest.

“I’m right here.” Bert says. “I’m here to stay.”

Tears leak from my eyes and run down Bert’s skin. I’m trembling violently. What if that nightmare comes true?

The bedroom door opens. “What’s going on?” Brendon asks, his hair mussed and eyeliner smudged around his eyes.

“Gerard had a nightmare.” Bert explains quietly. He kisses my cheek.

Something flashes across Brendon’s face… anger? He says nothing and closes the door.

“Let’s go get some breakfast. Maybe you’ll feel better.” Bert suggests, brushing my hair back.

In the kitchen, Brendon had set out two steaming mugs of coffee on the marble island. I gratefully take a mug and begin to gulp it down, ignoring the scalding heat. I’ve missed coffee. Brendon watches me drink. I feel uncomfortable, like a bug under a microscope. Bert doesn’t seem to notice, flipping through television channels.

“So, what are you guys going to do today?” Brendon asks, never tearing his gaze from me.

Bert shrugs. “I dunno. I might try to access my bank account.”

Brendon leans against the countertop. “You should show Gerard around downtown. Take him to Millennium Park or something.” he suggests.

Bert turns to me. “What do you think?”

I clutch my coffee. “I…” I stop myself from saying I’m too scared to go outside.

“Great!” Brendon interjects. “I’d join you, but I have work.” And with that, he marches off to his bedroom.

I wait until his door closes before sitting beside Bert on the couch. “I don’t think he likes me.” I say quietly.

Bert puts his arm around me. “It takes awhile for Brendon to come out of his shell. Now go get ready, because we’re going out.”

--

“Bert! I don’t need any more gifts!” I groan as Bert puts a small stuffed bear in my hands. The letter G is embroidered onto its fuzzy stomach.

“I got a credit card, and I’m going to spoil you with this credit card.” Bert says for the hundredth time since we left the bank. He kisses me on the cheek.

How many damn gift shops are in this city? And I don’t get why the people here are such die-hard Cubs fans. They suck, and they know it. Though I do have to admit that Bert looks cute in a Cubs hat.

“Do you like boats?” Bert asks.

“Um… I don’t know.” I reply, stroking the bear.

“Let’s find out.”

Bert drags me out of the gift shop and down Michigan Avenue. The buildings and the river are even more beautiful up close. Bert told me this morning that they dye the Chicago River green every year on St. Patrick’s Day. Poor fish. Bert buys us tickets for a sightseeing boat tour. There aren’t many people onboard, but I feel like all of them are staring at me. At any moment, doctors in white coats could come and tear me away from Bert. I lean close to him in my seat.

“Welcome to Wendella Boat Tours!” a woman chirps into a microphone as the boat begins to pull away from the dock. “Wendella was founded in 1935 by Albert Borgstrom…”

I drone out the woman’s overly-cheery thoughts and focus my attention on the gleaming water and towering buildings. It feels absolutely amazing to be free, to feel the sunlight and breathe fresh air… I’ve realized that people take life for granted. Most people don’t think much about their surroundings, but now that I know what it’s like to be corralled indoors for years, I try to absorb everything around me. It fills me with anxiety to be outdoors, but I have to enjoy it before it’s taken away.

“You look a little nervous.” Bert whispers in my ear.

I intertwine my fingers with his. “I am nervous.” I admit.

Bert cups his free hand around my face, stroking my cheek with his thumb. “It’s okay. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

A man across from us scowls in disgust and mutters something to the woman next to him. I assume she’s his wife. The wife observes us with an equally disgusted look. I pull away from Bert when he tries to kiss my nose. I don’t like having attention drawn to me. Especially from people like the couple shooting eye daggers at us.

“Gerard?” Bert looks a bit hurt. I nod my head in the direction of the couple.

A cloud passes over Bert’s face. “Do you have a problem?” he growls at them. “Do you have a problem with love?”

The man doesn’t flinch. “Sinners.” he shoots back.

Bert freezes. “What did you just call us?” he stands up.

“Bert,” I whisper, tugging his hand. Bert shakes me off and strides across the boat. People begin to whisper and turn in their seats. Even the narrator stops talking. I squeeze the bear like a stress ball.

There’s a terrifying silence as Bert stares down the man. I can practically see smoke coming out of his ears. His hands are clenched into tight fists. I cautiously approach him from behind, afraid that if I touch him, I’ll set him off like a bomb.

“B-Bert.” I stammer, hesitantly placing a hand on his shoulder. He doesn’t move.

“Look at me or my boyfriend one more time and I’ll rearrange your ignorant face. I fucking dare you.” Bert threatens. Then he marches back to where we were sitting. I follow him, ducking my head to avoid the awed stares from the other passengers.

Bert is breathing loudly, as if he had just ran a marathon. I count the seconds to pass the time until the boat ride is over. The narrator awkwardly continues her speech about the Wrigley Building. After 137 seconds, Bert finally relaxes a bit. He puts his arm around me, glaring at the couple. Neither of them look our way. Actually, all of the passengers seem to be pointedly looking away from us.

When the boat pulls up beside the dock, Bert and I are the first ones off. I pull him to the sidewalk. “What they said was rude, but you can’t blow up like that in public.” I say.

Bert looks ashamed. “I know.” he whispers. “I can’t control it. Do you forgive me?” His beautiful eyes beg for forgiveness.

“Of course.” I tell him. I kiss him lightly to make up for pulling away earlier. Bert surprises me by kissing me harder. The tip of his tongue rubs mine. I completely forget that we’re in public and loop my arms around his neck. I can taste the Dr. Pepper that Bert drank at lunch on his lips.

Bert eventually breaks away. “Damnit, Gerard. You’ll get me turned on in public, and how embarrassing would that be?”

“Very.” I whisper, pulling him back for another kiss.

---
Yeah... this is the crappiest chapter so far. T-T

Wendella Co. is a real boat tour company.