FicWad

Not too long after Gerard and I had sat to lunch did he get the overwhelming urge to have a smoke break outside.


"That's against school rules, you know." I say, forking a fry and pointing it at him with false intensity. He rolls his eyes and waves me bye before taking a left to leave through the door behind us. I can't keep the smirk off of my face to save my fucking life, and it's noted in the eyes of everyone looking. Lunch is thankfully over after a couple of lonely minutes, the ringing of the bell stirring me awake from my daydreams and into the reality of my current whereabouts.


I don't see much of Gerard afterwards, just a side-glance of him in the hallways from time to time. I shouldn't be keeping track of him like this. Like I'm his fucking PO or something. I just can't help but notice, which frustrates me beyond a reasonable degree.


"Hey, Gerard?" I ask quietly after coming up behind him at his locker. The last class of the day has just ended, which gives me approximately four minutes to propose what I've been putting off all day before he has to board the bus.


"Mhm? he asks, his voice laced with boredom or possibly just disinterest. His dark eyes are still firmly glued to the zipper of his bag as he pulls it shut to keep his notebooks inside.


"I was just uhm, do you want to hang out? I have some time before I've got to leave for church, so I was just wondering..." I trail off weakly, giving him every right in the world to turn me down. His eyes sweep over me and eventually land on my face, the shadow his bangs have created on his forehead only add to the mystery that is him.


"'Course. Sounds good. Wh-where?" he asks after a long minute. I release a held-in breath before answering him.


"I was thinking the park. I'm sure your parents are fed up with some stranger being in their home twenty-four/seven." I say cheekily. He laughs dryly and slips his bag's strap across his chest as it hangs from one shoulder.


"They don't mind. Trust me. But yeah, the park sounds fine."


I nod and follow him out of the closest exit before we're on our way to the local park. It's convenient that the area would be one of my favorite places to be, because I'm one of the very few teenagers who even still remembers the place exists. It's silent for a long while, even with the blaring horns of traffic sounding off every so often. I open my mouth a time or two in an attempt to eliminate the awkward moments, but I can't think of anything remotely interesting to talk about.


"Do you have any siblings?" Gerard asks out of the blue as we zoom in on the empty park bench ahead. I shake my head before remembering that he can't see behind him.


"Nope. What about you? Besides your brother, anyway." I ask, suddenly excited by the prospect of learning more about him.


"Nah, it's just me and Mikey." he says idly. We both sit our bags on the worn, wooden bench in front of us before exchanging a look.


"Swings?" I offer. Gerard's lips crack into a tender smile and so we backtrack to the set over by the little league ball field.


"So tell me about Mikey. Why doesn't he live with you and your folks?" I ask while picking at a spot on the corner of my thumb. Gerard breathes deeply before answering.


"He's in Florida with my grandma. She's pretty sick and couldn't live here anymore because of the climate, so the doctor recommended somewhere tropical. It was a tough decision, but he's not complaining so I guess I shouldn't be either." Gerard says finally. I look up, forgetting entirely about my torn thumb. I want to... fuck. I don't know what I want to do. Touch him? Strictly out of comfort, of course. I want to say things'll turn out for the better and his grandma'll never die, but we both know that isn't true.


"I'm really sorry. I didn't know..." I say, suddenly mortified for having asked.


"Well it's not like you could have." Gerard says with a small smile, clearing up the dreary mood immediately. I go over the point in my head until it's all I can think about. It's not like I could have known. And it's wrong to assume, so at least I didn't give him any theories before receiving the truth. I just wish I could help in some way.


"I lost my grandma last year." I say before slamming my palm over my mouth like I'd been caught red-handed. "Fuck, I... God, that was so inappropriate. I'm sorry." I say, my face reddening faster than I ever thought it could. Meanwhile Gerard's practically shaking with laughter, convulsing the fuck all over the place and I can only watch, horrified.


"It's okay, Frankie." he says in between gulps of air and small, spaced out chuckles. I grow redder still, wondering what the Hell is so funny.


"That was definitely not the right time to - God. What is so funny?!" I ask after a moment, unable to contain myself any longer.


"You're just cute when you're embarrassed. Sorry, man." he answers after a moment. I watch as he slowly rakes a hand down his face as if to wipe away the laughter and every amused expression along with it. I'm caught by his words, not quite sure how to react to them; not knowing if I even should. I settle with a soft Oh before trying desperately to change the subject.


By this point we're both seated side-by-side on the swings, talking about practically nothing and everything all at once. Small talk fills the place, as per usual. Our small conversation is only interrupted when a group of young boys ascend the mulch-covered lot and make their ways to the jungle gym behind us.


"Boys, don't separate!" a woman who could pass for the mother calls from the exercise bench near the parking area. I roll my eyes before turning my attention back to Gerard.


"So anyway, Mikey's like what? six years old? And y'know, I'm nine. So we stand in the doorway with my dad's shaving cream on our faces and it's just... you had to have been there, I guess. He's like "Gee? Is the hair gone, yet?" with this completely innocent expression on his face. It was priceless." Gerard says, wrapping up yet another amusing childhood story. The grin on my face begins to hurt, it's been there so long. It suddenly dawns on me that I want that. I want someone close to my age that I can make memories with; memories and stories that can be passed down and told at Christmas dinner and in church on Easter Sunday. I'm... jealous? Not of Gerard per se, just of what he has - or rather, had - with his brother.


"Gee." I say absently, going over the nickname in my head like it's something precious or possibly sacred.


"Yeah, that's all he'd call me growing up. Still does when we're on the phone, sometimes." Gerard says, his smile collapsing in on itself. Panic strikes as I realize I'd do anything to put that grin back on his face; anything within reason to make him happy like he was about five seconds ago.


"S'fucking cute." I say, hoping he'll have another flashback to present. He stops moving his body accordingly and the swing slows to a near halt.


"Ge-Gerard," I say, the nickname nearly falling off of my tongue as if I had always known it. "I'm really sorry." My comfort's a piece of shit in comparison to how I've seen individuals act, but he accepts it graciously as I hop from my seat and prop myself on the middle beam separating the two of us.


"When you graduate, maybe you can go to a university down there and, you know, be with them. Wouldn't that work?" I say without really trying to sugarcoat a thing. He nods and looks up at me from his seated position.


"Thanks, Frank." his soft tone is back, but it suits him given the current mood. I nod and look to our left over by the tennis court for no other reason than to avoid those sad fucking eyes - those eyes I could swim in if he'd only let me. I lean in just a little ways and place my hand on his shoulder, not really knowing what else to do. His muscles tense just moments before he relaxes, as if the weight on those shoulders doesn't matter quite as much for the time being. As I walk forward like my distance's actually relevant to the situation, a chime of laughter startles us both.


"Haha, fags. Charlie, look! Faggots!" a kid who couldn't be any older than nine shouts loudly as he points in our direction. My grip on Gerard's shoulder suddenly tightens before I let go completely and use the same hand to smooth the knots in my hair.


"Where do they even learn words like that?" Gerard asks, taking a look behind us. I shrug and begin to feel my eyes bug out of my head when he begins to laugh.


"This is funny to you? It doesn't bother y-"


"Of course it bothers me, Frankie. It's just the kind of situation that defines my miserable life." Gerard says, his breath growing ragged. He starts to cough, a puff of mist coming from every exhale, reminding me of how cold it actually is.


"I guess I know what you mean." and I do. In the midst of every good feeling or moment, there's bound to be one to balance it all. Can't go around feeling too good all of the time, that'd just be illegal. Suddenly, all I can manage to do is laugh right along with him. It's a pathetic laugh, but it's one that confuses the little bastards behind us and causes them to retreat to the monkeybars.


"Fuck, I needa smoke." Gerard says in a random exclamation. The laugh on our lungs dying.


"Go right ahead." I say, wiping my nose with the back of my wrist as nonchalantly as possible. He notices anyway.


I watch Gerard pull a square pack from his hoodie pocket before conjuring a lighter from his jeans. He hit the bottom of the box one, two times before lifting the cardboard lid and pulling a stick out. The world just kind of dies along with his lighter's flame as it works to slowly ignite and bring smoke to the cigarette dangling from the corner of Gerard's chapped lips. It's suddenly the most taboo and attractive thing I've ever seen before, all at once. My mouth's cracked open in what has to be a very unattractive way while my fingers dig hard into the bottom of the denim pockets on either side of my legs.


"Mmm." Gerard sighs lightly as a puff of smoke leaves his lips and fills the air around us. "You'd think with my aversion to cancer I'd give these things up but I swear they keep me sane." Gerard says softly, his eyes sparking in admiration for the little, white stick resting between his middle and index fingers.


"I know what you mean." Except I really don't. Not with cigarettes, anyway. Maybe with my knife or even the occasional blade. Sure, my aversion to infection and Staph is just as strong as anyone else's, but I'd pull my fucking hair out without my weapons of choice. Gerard just nods as if what I said made absolute perfect sense. He's gone. Undone, even. Like he really enjoys polluting his body above everything else. I find it so intriguing, and even a little disgusting. I crinkle my nose when the smell comes my way, but it's nothing I can't handle. My eyes water at the sharp contrast of cold air and hot smoke, but the wiff reminds me of his breath and so it's comforting, as ashamed as I am to admit it.


"Shouldn't you be getting home, soon?" Gerard asks after a moment. The peaceful way of his voice just confuses me all over again. Completely floors me and has me want him to speak to me forever.


"Y-yeah, yeah I've got church."


"Again?" Gerard asks, the butt of his cigarette nearly too small to retrieve anything useful.


"I go four times a week." I say like it's common knowledge. Now it's his eyes' turn to bug out and look at me like I've finally lost it. I just giggle without really thinking before nodding in confirmation. He shakes his head like it's a fucking tragedy and stomps out his dropped bit of ash.


"I don't see how you do it. Well, I guess I do. But I don't see how you'd do it healthily." he says, gesturing over to my arm still holding onto the pole. His comment should have breached so many things; should have crossed so many lines. But what he said was true, and it stung a little bit, but it wasn't meant to. I just look over his head and wish for a little bit of warmth so the tip of my nose didn't feel like it was about to drop from my face.


"We really don't have to talk about this." I offer, knowing full well that he knows this already. He sighs for a moment as I watch the breath leave his mouth.


"I know. Maybe we should sometime, okay?" he says, surprising me. Most people would do everything within their power to avoid the subject. To deny it and pretend the problem doesn't even exist. He stirs something so wild within me, I'm biting my tongue trying to keep the cheesy confession behind the closed doors of my gritted teeth. I'm trying to get a fucking grasp on life and reality, because no person, no man, should be making me feel like this. It' ridiculous. We hardly know each other and yet he's psychoanalyzing me like I'm his work-in-progress. Like I'm his experiment, or possibly just his beloved charity case. I want there to be stuff wrong with him so I can shred his insides with a single touchy sentence. I want - but that's selfish. Everything from my head is beyond childish and rude to boot. I'm apologetic all of the sudden, and he has no clue why.


"I really need to go. Maybe one day." I leave him with, knowing it'll at least content one of us. He smiles as I hoped he would before pulling himself up by the chained handles of the swing and walking over to me.


"I could... well, yeah. I'll see you soon, Frank." Gerard says, correcting himself from whatever proposition. A part of me, on some level, is insanely relieved that he's chosen to stay behind. I don't want him to accompany me if I can't even keep my emotions in check. I'm thankful, even as the loneliness creeps its way back into my shell. I nod and inch forward, like I know this should be customary by now. Even with the kids as our audience and their mom watching from the front. Gerard's clueless for a second, mortifying me further and giving me the bright idea of pulling away to save my ass, but he reaches out and grabs my wrist, bringing me in closer before letting go. I fight such horrible things inside to avoid his eyes, to avoid that face and those bruises and even that greasy hair. I fight and I lose. I'm looking up at him, his cracked lips forming into a wince of epic proportions. He leans in and wraps an arm around my back, pulling me in. He may be starved from a lot of things, but his means of affection are flawless. I form to him, just kind of melt to his jacket and use the hand that isn't still clutching onto the beam for dear life to wrap around him and grab at the bunched fabric on his back. I eventually slide my way up to his unused hood and hold onto that, seeing it as being something less intimate, something safer. And he just holds me, like I'm a fucking girl. Like I'm totally fucking enjoying the stench of nicotine and coffee and fire on his person - because I totally am. Like I've been begging for an embrace since the moment we met eyes and like I'm ever-thankful that he's finally obliged. And then it's over, and he's backing up with a hint of color to his corpse-like cheeks. His skeletal form isn't pressed against me any longer, and I'm as cold as ice.


"I'll see you around, all right?" Gerard says after a moment, moving a strand of very ticklish hair from the corner of my face where the curve of my nose and eye meet. I nod and dare to turn, regret leaking from every pore and I'm unable to stop it.


"C'ya, Gee." I say thoughtfully. He returns to the swing and undoubtedly watches me as I pick up speed in the direction of my house. I refuse to think anything of this, refuse to analyze that hug I could stay in forever. Or even those bony arms and his over-sized coat. I'm not in denial, my mind is simply blank. There's a huge fucking difference and no one can tell me otherwise. Suddenly, church isn't a big deal anymore. And neither is my mother, who will most likely yell at me about Gerard's forgotten coat incident. Everything's numb from the cold or maybe just the rapid beating in my chest, and I'm okay with this. Because nothing really hurts, it's all trapped in a soundproof box that I could ignore forever if only he'd let me.