Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > What Goes Around
Gerard woke up at twelve the next morning, his head thumping from drinking the night before. He groaned and rolled over, a dry, sticky taste in his mouth. He sat up too fast and clutched his head, moaning. He trudged to his shitty kitchen and got a glass of tap water, rubbing his forehead all the while. He didn’t have to be at the club until five, so he had a while to shower and do his hair again, wash off the smoke and grime from the club before he had to go back to it.
He sat down in front of the TV for a while, dressed in only a massive jumper and his boxer-briefs, with a slice of toast. There was nothing decent on, only daytime TV. He sighed after a half hour, switching the TV off, and decided to have a shower instead.
He moped around the apartment for a bit, taking in the peeling wallpaper and trying to ignore the neighbours upstairs (he was pretty sure it was a crack den) while his hair dripped water onto the tufts of carpet on the floor. He sat down in front of the TV with a cigarette and curled his legs up under his toes, not watching the screen, but the smoke as it drifted from the cigarette and curled itself around the air, embracing it and then letting go again as it dispersed into the apartment. He sighed heavily and padded over to the kitchen, opening the fridge door and stopping it form closing with his bony hip. He peered inside to see if he had anything to eat - half a tin of chicken soup, result - and put it in the microwave for three minutes, watching it rotate before realising what a waste of his time it was.
He plucked at his t shirt which was becoming damp from his hair before hearing the ping of the microwave.
*
Later that evening, he was back at the club, taking some more pills form Charlie. He could probably never do the job sober or not high, the memories would always end up being too clear for him afterwards. He stumbled out, like he did every day, and danced and stripped and moved vaguely in time to the music. He moved towards the sides of the stage and let strange men stroke his thighs, slipping notes into his suspenders.
He wandered backstage afterwards, his eyes more blown and his balance off. Charlie probably had given him something stronger this week. He leant against the bricked wall of the club and lit his cigarette, his fingers shaking as he held his lighter, almost burning his fingers in the process. He sucked in the smoke and relaxed a bit, his body still juddering and shaking.
“Hey,” A voice said smoothly from the darkness. Gerard squinted and frowned, trying to see who it was. Maybe it was Charlie, wanting to get fucked up and loaded again.
“Yeah?” He asked, his words slurring.
“I saw you on the stage up there,” The voice continued, “And I was wondering if you did more...private shows.”
“Yeah. No. I don’t know,” Gerard mumbled, his cigarette balanced in his fingers. Suddenly, the man had him pressed up against the wall.
“I know you do, you slut,” The man spat, “And you enjoy it too, I bet - putting on a show for everyone. You’re disgusting, you horrible little-”
Gerard tried to squirm out of his grip, his mind not totally connected to the rest of his body as he reactions were delayed and his body was getting lethargic.
“No,” He gasped out, dropping his cigarette, “Get off me.”
The man just laughed, his hands running over Gerard’s body roughly, uncaringly. He went to bite at Gerard’s throat and shove his hands down Gerard’s underwear. Gerard yelled and tried to push him away, banging his head against the brick wall hard and painfully. He reeled from the pain, feeling the blood trickle from his skull.
“No,” The man spat, gripping Gerard by the neck and holding tight. Gerard could hear some other voices, further away, but he wasn’t sure if that was the man’s voice and he was just getting foggy. Suddenly, he managed to push the man off and gave him a brutal right hook to the face, panting hard. The man stumbled back, holding his face and moaning while Gerard tried to catch his breath, his make up running and his clothes torn.
“Are you alright?” A voice called down the alleyway. Gerard looked up from the man lying on the floor to the voice, where a group of men around his age were standing.
“I don’t know. Maybe?” Gerard slurred, as the man crawled up and gripped his arm, “What the fuck?”
As soon as the man had gripped his arm, he was gone as one of the other men in the alley dragged him off.
“Fuck off,” One of them spat, “He obviously said no.”
And with that, the man sprinted away, throwing himself around the corner. No sooner had he done that, that Gerard promptly bent over and vomited over the wall.
“Gross, man,” One of the men said in distaste, “Are you okay though?”
Gerard stood up and wiped his mouth on his arm, “Yeah. Just kinda -”
“In shock?” A man suggested.
“High,” Gerard corrected, running a hand through his hair and blinking. The group of men was five strong, and they were all watching him carefully.
“You’re bleeding,” The dark haired, tattooed one pointed out. Gerard frowned and shrugged, feeling over himself.
“Where?” He asked, running his hands up and down his arms.
“Your head, and, like, most your face,” The man said, “Do you have insurance, or, like, anywhere to stay?”
Gerard snorted and steadied himself on the wall, fetching another pack of cigarettes from where he’d been keeping them in his garter belt.
“Do I look homeless?” He asked, pointing at himself. He then realised, belatedly, that he was still in his torn stage clothes, and he was actually kind of cold as well, as he was only in his corset, stockings and garter belt. The men stared at him, as if trying to decide whether he was or not.
“No offense,” The blonde man said, staring Gerard up and down. Gerard huffed a breath and lit another cigarette with his shaking hands.
“Well, I’m not,” He said shortly, taking a drag form his cigarette, “Son of a-” He muttered, feeling the back of his head.
“Do you have any other clothes?” The dark haired man asked again. Gerard shrugged and pointed back inside.
“I work in there. So. Maybe I do? I don’t remember,” Gerard sighed, inhaling some more smoke. The men muttered amongst themselves for a while before Gerard lost his balance again.
“Woah there,” The man with curly hair said, catching Gerard’s elbow. Gerard laughed and tried to steady himself.
“Can you - um - can you, like, go back into there and ask for Charlie,” Gerard hiccuped, “He’ll know what to do. I don’t know what to do.”
“Sure,” The dark haired man said, darting through the backstage door. The others stayed with him and tried to make sure that he wouldn’t topple over.
They waited for a moment before Charlie came stumbling out, in only a sweatshirt and his stockings.
“Shit,” He swore, “Gee, Babe, you okay?”
“I dun’know. Wish everyone would stop asking me,” He mumbled, letting Charlie engulf him in his embrace.
“Come on, I’ll get you back inside and clean up your pretty face,” Charlie said, “You’re bleeding everywhere, Hun.”
Gerard groaned and twisted away from Charlie to vomit again.
“Thanks for watching him and stuff,” Charlie said gratefully, wrapping an arm around Gerard’s shoulder and steering him inside.
“It was crazy,” He mumbled, “This guy came up to me, and he was all like, I’m gonna fuck you, and I was like, no, and then he hit me. I think. Or I hit him. Either way, it hurt.”
“I’m sure it did, Babe,” Charlie muttered, reaching for a wet wipe, “This could sting, so brace yourself.”
Gerard tilted his head back and tensed, waiting for Charlie to clean his face up.
He sat down in front of the TV for a while, dressed in only a massive jumper and his boxer-briefs, with a slice of toast. There was nothing decent on, only daytime TV. He sighed after a half hour, switching the TV off, and decided to have a shower instead.
He moped around the apartment for a bit, taking in the peeling wallpaper and trying to ignore the neighbours upstairs (he was pretty sure it was a crack den) while his hair dripped water onto the tufts of carpet on the floor. He sat down in front of the TV with a cigarette and curled his legs up under his toes, not watching the screen, but the smoke as it drifted from the cigarette and curled itself around the air, embracing it and then letting go again as it dispersed into the apartment. He sighed heavily and padded over to the kitchen, opening the fridge door and stopping it form closing with his bony hip. He peered inside to see if he had anything to eat - half a tin of chicken soup, result - and put it in the microwave for three minutes, watching it rotate before realising what a waste of his time it was.
He plucked at his t shirt which was becoming damp from his hair before hearing the ping of the microwave.
*
Later that evening, he was back at the club, taking some more pills form Charlie. He could probably never do the job sober or not high, the memories would always end up being too clear for him afterwards. He stumbled out, like he did every day, and danced and stripped and moved vaguely in time to the music. He moved towards the sides of the stage and let strange men stroke his thighs, slipping notes into his suspenders.
He wandered backstage afterwards, his eyes more blown and his balance off. Charlie probably had given him something stronger this week. He leant against the bricked wall of the club and lit his cigarette, his fingers shaking as he held his lighter, almost burning his fingers in the process. He sucked in the smoke and relaxed a bit, his body still juddering and shaking.
“Hey,” A voice said smoothly from the darkness. Gerard squinted and frowned, trying to see who it was. Maybe it was Charlie, wanting to get fucked up and loaded again.
“Yeah?” He asked, his words slurring.
“I saw you on the stage up there,” The voice continued, “And I was wondering if you did more...private shows.”
“Yeah. No. I don’t know,” Gerard mumbled, his cigarette balanced in his fingers. Suddenly, the man had him pressed up against the wall.
“I know you do, you slut,” The man spat, “And you enjoy it too, I bet - putting on a show for everyone. You’re disgusting, you horrible little-”
Gerard tried to squirm out of his grip, his mind not totally connected to the rest of his body as he reactions were delayed and his body was getting lethargic.
“No,” He gasped out, dropping his cigarette, “Get off me.”
The man just laughed, his hands running over Gerard’s body roughly, uncaringly. He went to bite at Gerard’s throat and shove his hands down Gerard’s underwear. Gerard yelled and tried to push him away, banging his head against the brick wall hard and painfully. He reeled from the pain, feeling the blood trickle from his skull.
“No,” The man spat, gripping Gerard by the neck and holding tight. Gerard could hear some other voices, further away, but he wasn’t sure if that was the man’s voice and he was just getting foggy. Suddenly, he managed to push the man off and gave him a brutal right hook to the face, panting hard. The man stumbled back, holding his face and moaning while Gerard tried to catch his breath, his make up running and his clothes torn.
“Are you alright?” A voice called down the alleyway. Gerard looked up from the man lying on the floor to the voice, where a group of men around his age were standing.
“I don’t know. Maybe?” Gerard slurred, as the man crawled up and gripped his arm, “What the fuck?”
As soon as the man had gripped his arm, he was gone as one of the other men in the alley dragged him off.
“Fuck off,” One of them spat, “He obviously said no.”
And with that, the man sprinted away, throwing himself around the corner. No sooner had he done that, that Gerard promptly bent over and vomited over the wall.
“Gross, man,” One of the men said in distaste, “Are you okay though?”
Gerard stood up and wiped his mouth on his arm, “Yeah. Just kinda -”
“In shock?” A man suggested.
“High,” Gerard corrected, running a hand through his hair and blinking. The group of men was five strong, and they were all watching him carefully.
“You’re bleeding,” The dark haired, tattooed one pointed out. Gerard frowned and shrugged, feeling over himself.
“Where?” He asked, running his hands up and down his arms.
“Your head, and, like, most your face,” The man said, “Do you have insurance, or, like, anywhere to stay?”
Gerard snorted and steadied himself on the wall, fetching another pack of cigarettes from where he’d been keeping them in his garter belt.
“Do I look homeless?” He asked, pointing at himself. He then realised, belatedly, that he was still in his torn stage clothes, and he was actually kind of cold as well, as he was only in his corset, stockings and garter belt. The men stared at him, as if trying to decide whether he was or not.
“No offense,” The blonde man said, staring Gerard up and down. Gerard huffed a breath and lit another cigarette with his shaking hands.
“Well, I’m not,” He said shortly, taking a drag form his cigarette, “Son of a-” He muttered, feeling the back of his head.
“Do you have any other clothes?” The dark haired man asked again. Gerard shrugged and pointed back inside.
“I work in there. So. Maybe I do? I don’t remember,” Gerard sighed, inhaling some more smoke. The men muttered amongst themselves for a while before Gerard lost his balance again.
“Woah there,” The man with curly hair said, catching Gerard’s elbow. Gerard laughed and tried to steady himself.
“Can you - um - can you, like, go back into there and ask for Charlie,” Gerard hiccuped, “He’ll know what to do. I don’t know what to do.”
“Sure,” The dark haired man said, darting through the backstage door. The others stayed with him and tried to make sure that he wouldn’t topple over.
They waited for a moment before Charlie came stumbling out, in only a sweatshirt and his stockings.
“Shit,” He swore, “Gee, Babe, you okay?”
“I dun’know. Wish everyone would stop asking me,” He mumbled, letting Charlie engulf him in his embrace.
“Come on, I’ll get you back inside and clean up your pretty face,” Charlie said, “You’re bleeding everywhere, Hun.”
Gerard groaned and twisted away from Charlie to vomit again.
“Thanks for watching him and stuff,” Charlie said gratefully, wrapping an arm around Gerard’s shoulder and steering him inside.
“It was crazy,” He mumbled, “This guy came up to me, and he was all like, I’m gonna fuck you, and I was like, no, and then he hit me. I think. Or I hit him. Either way, it hurt.”
“I’m sure it did, Babe,” Charlie muttered, reaching for a wet wipe, “This could sting, so brace yourself.”
Gerard tilted his head back and tensed, waiting for Charlie to clean his face up.
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