Hi everyone, it's been a long time. I put my author's note on my website (contentsofmymess.webs.com) because I didn't want to take up too much space. Also, just as a heads up to anyone who's interested in writing and/or improving their writing, I've started a second tumblr (I have a lot of social networking accounts, I know, and I'm sorry,) tagged-forwriting.tumblr.com. I use that page for reblogging / posting about all things writing, everything from online writing tools (hemingwayapp.com is a life-saver,) to tips about how to improve plot, character create, and describe emotions.
Anyway- I'm so sorry that this chapter is so short, considering how long you all have waited, but I hope you enjoy!
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Gerard was on his side, his mouth opened, black hair unruly. He was sort of snoring which was cute, considering I'd never really heard him snore before. I lifted my hand and touched his cheek, soft, his pale skin smooth beneath my fingers.
His eyelids fluttered, like he wanted to wake up but was just too tired to, and I shushed him, kissing his nose. He was so cute when he was sleeping. It'd been two months since he last slept in his mother's house and something about the change of scenery and the way my knees fit snuggly against his at night was helping him sleep.
I let my palm rest on the side of his face, my thumb touching his cheek.
"Hey, Gerard?" I said, soft. His lips sort of twitched, but it was hard to tell in the dim lighting of our bedroom. I patted his cheek with my fingers. "Hey, Gee, wake up, you fucking cutie."
He blinked his eyes open slowly, lips curving up in the cutest little smile when I pressed a kiss against his nose.
"You haven't called me Gee in a while," he kind of laughed, tired.
"I know," I said, looking at him.
His eyebrows pulled together in that sleepy, confused, really fucking adorable way. "Wait, wait. Is everything okay? Why'd you wake me up?"
"Everything is fine," I assured him.
We had moved Gerard's bed from his mother's house to here, our apartment. The sheets were dark black and the room was white, there were stacks of books and Gerard's art all over the floor. My guitar was leaning against the wall by the door and the only form decoration in the room were pictures that Gerard had tapped up while I'd made lunch last Wednesday, pictures that I'd taken of us and drawings that he was proud of. Our closet was on the wall opposite the bed, and there was a tall window about two feet above mine and Gerard's heads.
"I was just wondering," I said, softly, looking at Gerard. "Are we, uhm- are we ever gonna' get married, Gerard? Are you gonna' marry me?"
He just looked at me for a few seconds, like this was some sort of mystery that my eyes would hold the answer to. "'Are you gonna' marry me,' sounds a lot like 'will you marry me?'" he whispered.
I blinked, pushing dark strands of hair off of his forehead with my fingers. "Well," I said, breathing the word out, sort of terrified. He was looking at me with those damn sweet brown-green-hazel-fucking-gorgeous eyes of his. "Will you?"
His lips brushed against my mouth, his eyes focusing on mine, his face still so tired. "Of course I'll marry you."
I was pulling him into a hug before he even finished the sentence and he chucked at me, draping a tired arm over my waist.
"I love you," I said, kissing every inch of skin on his face and neck that I could reach.
"I love you, too." He pressed his face against my neck and mumbled, tired; "Frank, I'm sleepy, can you finish kissin' me later?"
