So, another fic, this one I've had lying around for a while... I think I've posted the first part on Instagram before, but there's a part 2, now! Happy Halloween, and I hope everyone enjoys!
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Rough, dark, musty. Gerard curls in on himself, cursing the morning light. His knees pull to his chest, his fingers grip the black sheets as he tugs them carelessly and angrily over his head.
Soft, white, glowing sunlight. Waking up to the best sight in the world, he welcomed the soft skin against his. He loved waking up in the white sheets, next to the other half of his heart.
The room smells of alcohol; sharp, stinging, and sickening to his stomach. His throat burns raw with tears and whatever his poison of choice had been last night as he swallows pointless air, his eyes sting with a dry itch. His fingers raise to his face and rub sharply and tightly into the corner of his right eye. The man lets out a low, soft moan of regret.
The gentle and familiar scent of coffee and cigarettes flooded his senses, his body moving softly against that of his lover's. A soft smile pushed the skin near his eyes up and he felt himself drowning in the warmth.
He rolls over in the sticky expanse of the bed, upset and over-heated by the dark sheets, their fabric clinging to every inch of his nude form.
His shoulders arch forward, the muscles in his arms flex. He runs through the motions of movement, of angry shifting and rolling and stretching. He moves with reckless anger until the sheets peel themselves away from his skin.
Gentle and airy, the sheets fluttered down around them as Gerard looked into the eyes of his lover, giggling softly, rolling over and pressing his body tight against the beautiful form that was next to him.
Gerard hates the way the sweat feels, he hates the way his hair clings to the sides of his face. He feels slimy, gritty in some places, and he cannot deny the overall feeling of dirtiness, the gross guilt that surrounds him.
Honey sweet, rolling softly, Gerard's hips rose against the gentle, smooth, warm work of art that he was so in love with, his lover's tattooed skin slipping smoothly across his.
Parts of him feel horribly violated, others, sorely neglected.
He closes his eyes and rolls his bottom lip between his teeth, sucking on it in a weak imitation of a lover's kiss.
He tasted so warm, so soft. The cold metal of his lip ring brushed Gerard's bottom lip, sending a smooth shiver down his spine. They moved like magic together, like two silk clothes falling soft together onto cotton sheets.
His eyes close, squeeze shut as tight as he can force. His head aches- pounds. The tight closing of his eyes is only making it worse, he knows, but he needs to find some way to get moisture into his stinging eyes.
He wants to cry. Desperately, he wants to cry
He feels miserable, neglected. He can still feel the dirty body of last night's distraction beneath his broken form, her skin sticking to his with hot sweat and guilty sex.
He was always so gentle, he always treated Gerard like he would break. His fingers skimmed down Gerard's skin, and back up his chest. He smiled, laughed, loved. He was perfection in it's most brilliant form, and he had chosen Gerard as his.
Gerard is lonely. He is deeply, achingly, disgustingly lonely. He misses his lover like he misses cigarettes, he misses his lover like he misses the ability to feel any emotion besides sadness and regret.
He kissed the hollow of Gerard's neck, the gentle dip of skin between Gerard's collar bones. He smiled against Gerard's neck, told him that he was beautiful. His lips rolled softly against Gerard's skin, his teeth slid smooth. He loved Gerard with every ounce of his very being, he made sure Gerard knew that.
He curls tighter in on himself, as together as he can allow himself to be. His chest aches, deep and hollow. He feels something low in his stomach tighten and roll and fill itself with sadness. His head pounds and constricts his emotions to nothing but dull pain. His skin feels tight, he feels trapped. He wants to slit his wrists and free himself from his own body.
His lover kissed every inch of Gerard's skin, every spot. He ran his fingers down every ache, traced his tongue across every sore spot, pressed his lips against every bad thought and cured it with the promise that Gerard was beautiful. He cured it with the promise that Gerard was loved.
The real relief he needs, though, he knows is half way across the world. The cure to this pain is somewhere off enjoying himself, probably getting new ink that says he doesn't care about the trembling soul he had left in the hotel on this same night last year.
Gerard woke one morning to the absence of his lover. He looked around the room, spotted the roses and the note. He smiled. He expected, "Out for coffee. I'm bringing you some, too, don't worry. I love you. See you soon, sweetheart." His fingers petted the roses, ran smoothly across the card as he opened it.
Gerard presses both hands against his face. He still wants to cry.
He had not expected, "I'm sorry. I loved you, don't forget that. Don't try to find me. Goodbye." His fingers curled into the notecard in shock. Tears stung at his eyes. Nothing made sense. Frank was special, couldn't he just stay? Or was he trying to kill Gerard, intentionally hurting him like this?
Frank had taken his cigarettes when he left that night, and Gerard hasn't bought another pack since.
But Frank had left behind booze.
Frank had left behind a lot of fucking booze.
And Gerard, well, he planned on drowning himself in it.
