Poison (Frerard)

Cocaine

Gerard's keys jingled in his pocket as he walked down the hall to his apartment, sighing as he gazed upon the faded wallpaper and dingey carpet. He frowned when he entered his apartment, the strong smell of liquor and old takeout almost making him gag. He peeled off the note that was taped to the door and tossed it in the trash, knowing that his landlord was just getting impatient again and that he'd somehow have to scrounge up the money by the end of the week.

He kicked empty beer bottles and greasy pizza boxes to the side, making his way into his decrepit bedroom. His bent bedframe had been found in an alleyway, the flimsy mattress sagging close to the floor. He stripped off his clothes before flopping onto the bed, a spring harshly pressing into his back.

He lay there and waited for sleep, that sweet surrender never coming for him. His hands twitched and his head ached, his body craving a different kind of escape from reality.

He trudged out to the kitchen, digging through many drawers before he came across the small bag of white powder. He shoved multiple Chinese takeout boxes off the counter, pouring the white powder into a pile. His hands shook as he tried to straighten it to a line, eventually giving up on making it neat.

He snorted the line with ease, the fiery feeling in his nose fading as he wiped the excess from around his nostrils. The shakes of his hands calmed, his head clearing. He sighed, running a hand through his hair before making his way back into his bedroom. He flopped on the bed face-down, and fell into a fitful sleep.

------

Angry screams in the apartment above his woke him a few hours later. A thundering shout was heard before a loud thud, Gerard presuming that the abusive boyfriend was back to his antics. Gerard would come to the poor guy's defense, if not for the small problem of the boyfriend being his drug dealer.

He blearily rubbed his eyes and ran his hands through his mussed hair, before absentmindedly getting dressed. He didn't much like the confines of clothing; he much preferred the freedom of thin lace and mostly bare legs to the stiffness and extra heat of denim jeans.

After fixing his hair as well as he could in the cloudy, cracked mirror in the bathroom, he shoved his wallet and his phone into his pockets. He contemplated snorting another line, knowing how it helped his confidence while performing. The issue was, he didn't have much left and he certainly didn't have the means to buy more without having to sell himself. He couldn't resist the urge and used the last of his small stash, his heart beating quickly and all worries leaving his mind. He grabbed his keys before rushing out of his apartment, not wanting another lecture from Pete about being late.

------

"Can you never be here on time?" Pete sighed when Gerard walked through the backstage door, frustratedly scribbling on his clipboard.

"I've still got half an hour before the club opens and another hour before I actually go on stage. Loosen up a little, Pete," Gerard replied, slipping into his dressing room.

"You know, I could help you loosen up, if you'd like," Gerard added a few minutes later, peeking out the door and winking at the tattooed man who was his boss.

"Save it for the customers, G. You know I'm loyal to Pat," Pete said lightheartedly, pointedly flashing the hand with his wedding ring at Gerard before heading down the hall to check on the other performers.

Gerard chuckled to himself and finished getting dressed, awkwardly contorting his arms to pull the corset strings tight. He slipped on the black pumps, taking a few halting steps to familiarise himself with the six inch heel before he could easily glide in them. He quickly did his makeup, his eyeliner smudged in a way only he could manage to look sexy instead of exhausted.