The Kiss of Vanity Blessed Me With A Spiritual Murder [Frerard]

Sickening

It's cold, and the teeth of the strong wind are what makes Gerard wrap his ratty, brown old hoodie tighter around his shoulders and drag himself inside.

The door creaks and Ryan looks up at him, raising his hand in his direction and motioning at him to sit down on the floor next to him. It's warm inside, and he finds the courage to unzip his hoodie, his lighter almost rolling out of his pocket and onto the floor. The glass in Jamia's hand is full of something that looks like slightly discolored coke, and it gets on Gerard's nerves how it glimmers almost unnaturally against the antique yellow lighting. Pete and Ryan are sharing a joint while Frank is sitting in Jamia's armchair, the yellow one- the one Gerard was sitting in when he first got here, and an uneasy feeling appears at the bottom of his gut when he gives him a lift of an eyebrow as a greeting.

"Hey man," Pete blinks, "man. Man. Gerard, man." Gerard just looks at him, disinterested, but Pete continues nevertheless. "Tell Jamia that playing 'Spin The Bottle' is stupid. I've already made out with Ryan a lot of times and let me tell you that I'm not about that life."

Gerard just looks at Jamia, who is playing with an empty bottle in front of her and grinning mischievously at Pete, and then at Ryan, who's too busy singing Janis Joplin to even acknowledge anything Pete is saying. Gerard would gladly object playing, but he's already started scratching his wrist in his lap and he can't seem to speak or say anything at all as Jamia is trying to make Frank join the game.

The anxiety doesn't kick strong, but it still aches his throat mid-breath every time he tries to catch some air. He can't seem to breathe through his nose even though Ryan settles on kissing the back of his palm as if he's some kind of royalty, and Gerard's lips sting from the biting but he still smiles even though he knows the skin will break. It's sort of trivial, since Ryan is high as a kite and probably not even sure what his own name is, but he somehow still remembers the fact that any form of rough physical contact makes Gerard feel attacked. It makes him feel like a charity case, but he still appreciates the gesture.

It's safe to say that the atmosphere is near to loose even though Pete and Frank are constantly bickering over something, and Ryan's disgusted face kind of represents Gerard's constant mood as Jamia is forced by the stupid game to shove her tongue down Pete's throat. Gerard's brain is already hurting a lot when Ryan pecks Frank's lips horribly awkwardly, and it all feels like a movie whose executive producer is Gerard himself. It's all too embarrassing, and he practically feels home because of it- but then again, miserable that he associates safety with general shame of simply being who he is.

The situation turns different when Frank spins the bottle. Gerard can feel the nausea up to his throat, and he knows who the bottle cap will point at even before it lands on him. In any other situation he'd probably congratulate himself for being unnecessarily psychic, but all he wants to do right now is throw up without it being in anyone's lap.

He doesn't want to have to do this, because Frank him jittery and he's pretty sure that the guy hates his guts with all he owns. Gerard then feels all eyes at himself, and the sickness he senses deep inside his skull increases because he's more or less under the spotlight, which is probably the last place he would ever wish to be. He doesn't look at Frank, instead he just lowers his eyes on his shirt and sees a stain he can stare at right beside the collar, but when he realizes it's pitch black and it looks like oil tar more than anything else he feels the bile working up towards his head. He closes his eyes and he's fighting off the urge to scream, or vomit, but he's afraid his vocal chords might blow up and stain the clothes of everyone around him. And staining other people's stuff is rude, isn't it?

He can't fucking breathe, since he's painfully aware of the fact that he can't exactly back out of this. He isn't sure why it's so important not to come off as a moron he knows he is in front of Frank, and Frank alone- maybe just because he knows the guy has no compassion or mercy, and will make him feel ten times shittier about being himself than he already does.