I Don't Love You

Try Not To Talk when There's Nothing To Say

Day Six

I wake up at six in the morning when Gerard stumbles into the room. He doesn't bother with the light, but I can mostly see him illuminated by the rising sun streaming in through the window. He looks like shit. His hair is matted, tangled, and sticking up in every direction. There are dark circles under both eyes and I'd probably assume he's drunk expect for the distinct lack of an alcoholic smell. He yawns, blinks a few times, and then strips down to his boxers to fall ungracefully onto his bed. He's sober. Just tired. I can relate.

Still, I sit up. His head turns in my direction, eyes narrowed as he wipes furiously at his nose. I don't say anything, but the silence speaks volumes more than I ever could right now. Gerard seems to hear it, too. "Fuck you, Frank." He says, but there's no real venom in the words. It feels almost emotionless, defeated and empty. Like a knee-jerk reaction.

I stand up. He doesn't move when I step toward his bed, doesn't acknowledge me when I prod his arm, pushing him over. He shifts easily enough, scooting to the far side of the mattress. Then I lie down next to him.

It feels strange to be in this close proximity again, almost but not quite touching. But his breath is warm on my ear when he whispers, "I hate you, you know. But... I don't."

I just nod because I understand. Silence consumes us for a long time, but I can feel his alertness. He's not asleep. Eventually, I fold my arms across my chest, hugging myself when I whisper, "It's called asexual."

Gerard doesn't say anything, so I add, "It's a real thing. Google defined it as a lack of sexual attraction or desires." I turn onto my side and find Gerard already watching me. His pink lips are parted, hazel eyes glazed over. He's so fucking beautiful in this instant, so open and vulnerable, that it makes my chest ache with the echo of past emotions. "You're not broken, Gerard. There's nothing wrong with you."

Gerard inhales a slow, shaky breath. And then his fingers brush mine. He opens his mouth, but falls silent as his hand settles against mine, fingers interlocking. "There's a lot of things wrong with me. Like the fact that I want this." He pauses, his voice hoarse when he asks, "Can I have this? Just for tonight?"

And I can't find it in myself to deny it, because a part of me needs it just as much, no matter how much it might hurt in the morning. So I nod and brush the pad of my thumb over his knuckles. He leans in, his lips brushing over mine. It's faint, almost not a kiss at all, but it's there. Then he sighs. His eyes close and I watch for a few minutes longer until sleep finally comes. Then I let myself fall asleep next to him.

When I wake up a few hours later, the bed is empty and Gerard is gone.

After a shower and a change of clothes, I make my way down to the cafe. Lunch is just closing at the buffet and the crowd dwindles. In the corner of the room, nestled into a booth alone, is Gerard.

As I slide into the seat across from him, Gerard looks up. He doesn't say anything before returning to stare into the black abyss of coffee in front of him. He takes a small sip.

"I think I found something," I state. "About the--" I pause, lowering my voice. "The marriage thing."

Gerard looks up, intrigued, so I continue. "I went to the library yesterday and found out that Vegas weddings are only legal if the right paperwork is signed by the right people. I know how we can find out if we actually got married or not."

Gerard nods dumbly when I don't say anything else, waving his hand around impatiently. "And?"

"It's as easy as checking Google," I tell him. "We find a computer, we can find out if I'm officially Mister Frank Way."