Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > What Goes Around
Gerard leant against Frank’s check out counter as he waited for him to finish his shift. The grocery store was pretty empty and they mainly spent time chewing gum and putting things, from food items to body parts, on the conveyor belt. Every so often they would have to stop to let a customer pay for their goods, but then they would go back to opening random packs of biscuits and trying to see who could fit the most in their mouth at once.
“I was thinking.” Frank said as he clocked off and grabbed his jacket. “Did you want to get something to eat later? I can hang around while you’re working and then we could find somewhere that’s open.”
“Sounds good.” Gerard smiled as Frank held the door to the shop open for him. “You don’t have to stick around if you don’t want to.”
“You’ve seen me work.” Frank grinned, falling into step beside him.
Gerard laughed nervously. “Yeah...but...sure, whatever. Just don’t blame me if you get hit on by men twice your age.”
Frank waggled his eyebrows. “Was that meant to put me off...?”
Gerard hit him on the arm. “Shut up.”
Frank smirked at him. “Are you going straight to your shift? Because I may go back and get changed first. I don’t really want to go out in my slacks and my nametag. I’ll meet you there though, right?”
“Yeah, I’ll only be getting ready for a half hour or whatever. I think I’m on a half nine? See you later though.” He said. Frank smiled and leaned in for a quick kiss before jogging off back towards his apartment. Gerard stared after him, a small smile playing on his lips.
*
Charlie checked up on him when he arrived at the club to see how he was doing from yesterday, but then he had to leave as he was meeting his own boyfriend (his ex-ex) and his shift was over. It was weird working when Charlie wasn’t there, so he went outside to smoke for a bit and then went back in to get ready, putting on his stage clothes and his makeup. He felt jittery - Frank was going to be watching him for the first time. Usually his boyfriends had left him by now, but what if Frank got too freaked out? Like, what if he hadn’t realised the reality of what Gerard did?
Gerard expelled his thoughts by shaking his head and leaning back in his chair, swallowing down some anti-depressants which he kept in his draws for moments like this and then staring at himself in the mirror.
When he was younger, he used to try on his mom’s make up from time to time and it had felt exciting, something exquisite and secret. He had felt so much more than himself when he wore it, more sexy and mysterious. He hated it now. Hated how he had to put make up on for other people to see, for sweat from the heat of the club and the blinding lights to ruin. The make up he had to use was cheap - sticky blacks and bright reds. His mom’s make up was expensive - the lipstick felt smooth as he put it on, tasting of vanilla. Her mascara left his lashes feeling spidery and long, like he could bat them and everyone would fall to their knees. Now his lashes are thickly coated and clumped and his lipstick is dry and needs reapplying every few minutes and tastes of plastic. But it’s fine. It doesn’t matter if he enjoys it or not, because it’s not about him anymore.
Gerard struggled into his stage clothes and slipped on his shoes, wiggling his toes inside them. The only good thing about putting the heels on was being able to take them off afterwards. He stretched his legs out and watched everyone else scuttle around - most people kept themselves to themselves as they didn’t really want to talk about how they’d ended up here. Some were stereotypical - flamboyant, outgoing, only here to raise money for pay for their college tuition. The others though were more like him. Abandoned, runaways, cast out. Unloved.
He was feeling even more jittery than usual before his shift on stage, which was probably justified. Well, he actually felt a little sick. The only way he could get through this would be through pretending Frank wasn’t there, otherwise he would definitely just freeze up.
He took a deep breath before stepping out onto the stage, the man before him slipping backstage and giving him a brief smile, gesturing to the now empty stage. As soon as he stepped out, he felt the feeling washing over him like it always did, the feeling of detachment. It was fine if Frank was in the crowd, because this wasn’t him doing this. This was someone else, someone else who took over his body for a while and stripped and danced for money.
He couldn’t see Frank from the stage, but then again, he couldn’t much other than the men gathered around the stage due to the lights shining directly into his eyes. He just concentrated on getting as many tips as possible, dancing near the men thrusting bills towards him, desperate to buy some of his attention.
At the end of his shift, when the music faded, he traipsed off stage and leant against the wall to pull the notes out of his stockings. He thumbed through them, counting them quickly, before folding them in his hand. He kicked off his heels and untied his corset haphazardly, throwing it underneath his dressing table. He got re-dressed into his jeans and a jumper and shoved his phone and wallet into his pockets. He left through the backstage and went to seek out Frank.
He looked around the club for a few moments, mainly looking at the bar to see if Frank was standing there. Eventually he caught sight of Frank at the back, and he quickly made his way over with his head lowered so that he didn’t get any unwanted attention.
“Hey.” He murmured, behind Frank. He laughed as Frank jumped and turned around.
“Don’t do that, motherfucker!” He swore, grinning. He ducked in to kiss Gerard quickly, and then pulling him into a hug.
“Tense?” Gerard asked, smiling. Frank hit his shoulder.
“You have everything? Ready to go?” Frank asked, taking his hand. Gerard smiled to himself and weaved his fingers in between Frank’s.
“Yeah, let’s go.”
*
“Do you ever-” Frank paused to poke at his food. He dropped his fork and looked at Gerard. “Do you ever think about getting a normal job?”
Gerard chewed and swallowed.
“Um.” He frowned. Maybe this was it. The ‘it’s fun but I don’t think this is going anywhere’ talk.
“Not in like- Do you want a normal job? Do you like it there?” Frank asked. Gerard crossed his legs and stared at his plate.
“I- I’m not really qualified for anything else. I’ve tried but...well, no one wants to hire me, basically. And I don’t really blame them. I mean, what do I put on my resume?” Gerard sighed. “Won a school art competition. Did a paper round when I was eleven. Dropped out of high school at sixteen. And then when they ask me what I’ve been doing four years since, I’ll have to tell them I’ve been doing this.”
“Have you tried?” Frank asked tentatively.
“Yes, of course I fucking have.” Gerard snapped, gritting his teeth. There was a silence cast over the table.
“Sorry.” Frank said sincerely. “I didn’t mean to assume anything or patronise you.”
Gerard shrugged. “It’s fine. Just- this is going to be me for a while. If you can’t deal with that or anything, then it’s fine I guess. You don’t have to stick around. I understand.”
Frank placed his fork down. “It’s not like that at all. But if you had a choice, would you leave?”
Gerard leant back in his chair. “Well...I mean, yeah. Yeah, I would. In a perfect world I’d leave and go back to education and like go to adult classes or whatever and finish high school and then go and do something I really love, like art school. But I can’t.”
“So...you’re going to do this for the rest of your life?” Frank asked. Gerard took a deep breath.
“I’m not a fucking charity case or a project, Frank. I’m not someone’s romance film. I fucked up, okay? I hate working at the club, but it’s what I have to do to fucking survive. I don’t have the privilege of working normal, mundane jobs because I fucked up. Maybe one day I’ll save up enough money to leave it, but don’t hold your fucking breath.” Gerard snapped, reaching into his pocket to throw down a ten dollar bill to cover his meal.
“No, come on, Gerard.” Frank said, standing up to try and get a grip on his arm. Gerard shook him off and stormed out of the diner, lighting up a cigarette once he was outside as he wandered back home.
“I was thinking.” Frank said as he clocked off and grabbed his jacket. “Did you want to get something to eat later? I can hang around while you’re working and then we could find somewhere that’s open.”
“Sounds good.” Gerard smiled as Frank held the door to the shop open for him. “You don’t have to stick around if you don’t want to.”
“You’ve seen me work.” Frank grinned, falling into step beside him.
Gerard laughed nervously. “Yeah...but...sure, whatever. Just don’t blame me if you get hit on by men twice your age.”
Frank waggled his eyebrows. “Was that meant to put me off...?”
Gerard hit him on the arm. “Shut up.”
Frank smirked at him. “Are you going straight to your shift? Because I may go back and get changed first. I don’t really want to go out in my slacks and my nametag. I’ll meet you there though, right?”
“Yeah, I’ll only be getting ready for a half hour or whatever. I think I’m on a half nine? See you later though.” He said. Frank smiled and leaned in for a quick kiss before jogging off back towards his apartment. Gerard stared after him, a small smile playing on his lips.
*
Charlie checked up on him when he arrived at the club to see how he was doing from yesterday, but then he had to leave as he was meeting his own boyfriend (his ex-ex) and his shift was over. It was weird working when Charlie wasn’t there, so he went outside to smoke for a bit and then went back in to get ready, putting on his stage clothes and his makeup. He felt jittery - Frank was going to be watching him for the first time. Usually his boyfriends had left him by now, but what if Frank got too freaked out? Like, what if he hadn’t realised the reality of what Gerard did?
Gerard expelled his thoughts by shaking his head and leaning back in his chair, swallowing down some anti-depressants which he kept in his draws for moments like this and then staring at himself in the mirror.
When he was younger, he used to try on his mom’s make up from time to time and it had felt exciting, something exquisite and secret. He had felt so much more than himself when he wore it, more sexy and mysterious. He hated it now. Hated how he had to put make up on for other people to see, for sweat from the heat of the club and the blinding lights to ruin. The make up he had to use was cheap - sticky blacks and bright reds. His mom’s make up was expensive - the lipstick felt smooth as he put it on, tasting of vanilla. Her mascara left his lashes feeling spidery and long, like he could bat them and everyone would fall to their knees. Now his lashes are thickly coated and clumped and his lipstick is dry and needs reapplying every few minutes and tastes of plastic. But it’s fine. It doesn’t matter if he enjoys it or not, because it’s not about him anymore.
Gerard struggled into his stage clothes and slipped on his shoes, wiggling his toes inside them. The only good thing about putting the heels on was being able to take them off afterwards. He stretched his legs out and watched everyone else scuttle around - most people kept themselves to themselves as they didn’t really want to talk about how they’d ended up here. Some were stereotypical - flamboyant, outgoing, only here to raise money for pay for their college tuition. The others though were more like him. Abandoned, runaways, cast out. Unloved.
He was feeling even more jittery than usual before his shift on stage, which was probably justified. Well, he actually felt a little sick. The only way he could get through this would be through pretending Frank wasn’t there, otherwise he would definitely just freeze up.
He took a deep breath before stepping out onto the stage, the man before him slipping backstage and giving him a brief smile, gesturing to the now empty stage. As soon as he stepped out, he felt the feeling washing over him like it always did, the feeling of detachment. It was fine if Frank was in the crowd, because this wasn’t him doing this. This was someone else, someone else who took over his body for a while and stripped and danced for money.
He couldn’t see Frank from the stage, but then again, he couldn’t much other than the men gathered around the stage due to the lights shining directly into his eyes. He just concentrated on getting as many tips as possible, dancing near the men thrusting bills towards him, desperate to buy some of his attention.
At the end of his shift, when the music faded, he traipsed off stage and leant against the wall to pull the notes out of his stockings. He thumbed through them, counting them quickly, before folding them in his hand. He kicked off his heels and untied his corset haphazardly, throwing it underneath his dressing table. He got re-dressed into his jeans and a jumper and shoved his phone and wallet into his pockets. He left through the backstage and went to seek out Frank.
He looked around the club for a few moments, mainly looking at the bar to see if Frank was standing there. Eventually he caught sight of Frank at the back, and he quickly made his way over with his head lowered so that he didn’t get any unwanted attention.
“Hey.” He murmured, behind Frank. He laughed as Frank jumped and turned around.
“Don’t do that, motherfucker!” He swore, grinning. He ducked in to kiss Gerard quickly, and then pulling him into a hug.
“Tense?” Gerard asked, smiling. Frank hit his shoulder.
“You have everything? Ready to go?” Frank asked, taking his hand. Gerard smiled to himself and weaved his fingers in between Frank’s.
“Yeah, let’s go.”
*
“Do you ever-” Frank paused to poke at his food. He dropped his fork and looked at Gerard. “Do you ever think about getting a normal job?”
Gerard chewed and swallowed.
“Um.” He frowned. Maybe this was it. The ‘it’s fun but I don’t think this is going anywhere’ talk.
“Not in like- Do you want a normal job? Do you like it there?” Frank asked. Gerard crossed his legs and stared at his plate.
“I- I’m not really qualified for anything else. I’ve tried but...well, no one wants to hire me, basically. And I don’t really blame them. I mean, what do I put on my resume?” Gerard sighed. “Won a school art competition. Did a paper round when I was eleven. Dropped out of high school at sixteen. And then when they ask me what I’ve been doing four years since, I’ll have to tell them I’ve been doing this.”
“Have you tried?” Frank asked tentatively.
“Yes, of course I fucking have.” Gerard snapped, gritting his teeth. There was a silence cast over the table.
“Sorry.” Frank said sincerely. “I didn’t mean to assume anything or patronise you.”
Gerard shrugged. “It’s fine. Just- this is going to be me for a while. If you can’t deal with that or anything, then it’s fine I guess. You don’t have to stick around. I understand.”
Frank placed his fork down. “It’s not like that at all. But if you had a choice, would you leave?”
Gerard leant back in his chair. “Well...I mean, yeah. Yeah, I would. In a perfect world I’d leave and go back to education and like go to adult classes or whatever and finish high school and then go and do something I really love, like art school. But I can’t.”
“So...you’re going to do this for the rest of your life?” Frank asked. Gerard took a deep breath.
“I’m not a fucking charity case or a project, Frank. I’m not someone’s romance film. I fucked up, okay? I hate working at the club, but it’s what I have to do to fucking survive. I don’t have the privilege of working normal, mundane jobs because I fucked up. Maybe one day I’ll save up enough money to leave it, but don’t hold your fucking breath.” Gerard snapped, reaching into his pocket to throw down a ten dollar bill to cover his meal.
“No, come on, Gerard.” Frank said, standing up to try and get a grip on his arm. Gerard shook him off and stormed out of the diner, lighting up a cigarette once he was outside as he wandered back home.
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