ᶠÚᵗᵇᵒˡ Oɴᴇsʜᴏᴛs ⎳⎳

New inmate (Neymar x Pique)

Keep in mind, neither Shakira/Clara Chia are the wives of Gerard here. Just think of someone who'd fit the plot frame. Enjoy.

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The click of the opening of the cellar lock woke Gerard, causing him to groan and sit up. Like his day couldn't get any worse. He scratched his beard, not sparing a glance as the police officer and another smaller male took a step inside.

- "Hey, this is your new room-mate. Behave nicely." The police left, locking the cellar door. Gerard scoffed and stood up, slightly startling the smaller male from his height.

Gerard turned and oh dear god. Was this even possible? Did that even exist? He didn't know what he was thinking. He felt lost, all of a sudden. His mind was a mess. He couldn't think straight, looking at the man infront of him. He could feel a slight rise between his thighs, groaning under his breathe.

Brown, curly hair. Bold green eyes. Plump lips. Tanned skin, certain inking scattered here and there. But it was no match with his innocent, doe eyes looking up at him. He didn't look like someone who'd end up here, but Gerard couldn't ignore the increase of pace in his heartbeat.

Gerard took a step forward, clearing his throat. This was probably the first and last person he'd been so awkward and formal with, in general. Gerard wasn't a person who'd give a fuck about anyone. He could barely think about himself for his own good. But, this guy apparently, is an exception.

He's not the guy Gerard would love to have a one-night stand with and just leave it at that. He could sense a clear force of attraction between them, and it terrified him more, coming to realize how hard he'd fallen in the span of 5 minutes. The effect that this lad was having in Gerard without knowing, almost seemed and felt too hard to believe.

When Gerard couldn't ever love himself, or trust anyone, how was it possible that he was having a subliminal effect on Gerard? No way I'm dreaming, Gerard thought and realized he'd been staring at him for a good 10 minutes already.

Gerard smiled, wrapping an arm around his shoulder.

- "Hey, what's your name?"

- "N-Neymar.."

- "What did you do?"

Gerard sat Neymar, as Neymar fell silent; at a loss of words. And Gerard already knew what was coming, noticing his face quivering, his hands clutching tightly onto the designated dress to wear provided by the prison.

Gerard wrapped a hand around him again, patting his back. He tried his best not to whisper the most comforting words, like he would to his late wife. It ached him to ever think of her again. To ever imagine to get a replacement of her. There would be no one. There would only be one copy of her, and that herself, and no one else.

Her death had pushed Gerard to become a madman. Even though her death was not a sudden; shocking on. It was a slow one, which Gerard knew 3 years before she succumbed to the rare genetic disease. As a man who barely earned the best, he wasn't able to provide her with the best treatment, and that left him into a debt he could never pay back.

It left his heart scarred. Broken. Mad. He went mad. He stopped showing his face to anyone. Shaved his hair, grown a beard, gone to several bars but none helped. Not even a bit. With every night, he failed to do the bare minimum to keep himself sane for the sake of his now deceased wife.

His family had noticed. His friends did. And boy had they done a big mistake to mess with an already damned Gerard.

Without realizing he'd gone out of his mind; he murdered his friend. Had banged his head brutally, several times against the wall. He couldn't bear hearing his friend spouting bullshit about his wife. That's the extent he'd go to, to keep his wife under his protective shadow; as if she'd never been dead.