An Iscariotic Affliction Of Sorts

10 - Marble Staircases and Explicit Thoughts I

"Can I get you a drink?" Gerard stared at me, mildly disinterested, his tone of voice so casually careless it was painful to listen to. I could tell our little argument had no small effect on me, but it seemed to have absolutely nothing on Gerard. He was as relaxed as before, if not more. Why didn't he even feel in the least uncomfortable? I was annoyed, as if this minuscule adjective could express the foul disdain I felt. It was an under-exaggeration. Whatever the hell it was called.

I was draped on his couch, at his house, carefully trying my best not to wrinkle the immaculate fabric of it. I hadn't slept a wink the rest of the entire ride on his car, having been too tired to sleep, even though my eyelids were heavy and I kept hitting my head on the side of the car. But I didn't dare sleep. I was scared, too scared that the dream, the nightmare, would take place again in my head. So I stayed up, even though I was so exhausted, and sweat drenched that I could have slept through a thunderstorm. Irony.

The man Gerard drove us past a lot of country, and after a while, we arrived at his 'house'

Now, for the record, his house was no ordinary house. Damn, I wondered what he worked as. A marble staircase stretched from floor to second level, just like in those fairy tales, except the difference was this wasn't just for show. It was genuine. A red velvet carpet was draped over the staircase; I guess Mr Way liked to have little narcisistic walks of fame to amplify his celebrity looks. I hated to admit it, but he was really attractive. He had the jawline, the perfectly chiselled cheekbones and eyes. All he really needed right now was a crowd of screening fangirls.

He had a statue of a Greek goddess beside the staircase; it must have cost a ton, from the way it was elaborately carved and fashioned. I could see the small marble fountain in the hallway. Pisces, this guy was loaded from head to toe, made of cash or something. The ground was an expensive carpeting in some areas, and marble flooring in others, and the curtains and ceiling to ground windows were concealed with perfectly matched grand purple curtains. I felt sorely out of place here, with my jeans and torn shirt and unkempt hair. I probably stank too, how long had I gone without a shower? I must have reeked of blood and sweat.

Gerard perched on the edge of the sofa, "So do you want a drink or not?" He repeated himself. Was it just me, or did i detect the faint hint of annoyance in his voice?

"Um.. no, thanks. I'm fine- I'm not thirsty or anything. Thanks."

"Okay," he shrugged. He started to walk away, but then turned around the last minute, as if something had occurred to him, as meaningless as it could be, "Do you wanna take a bath?"

"Are you insinuating that I stink?"

"You can't insinuate a fact, Frank," he chuckled, his eyes lighting up, a mischievous look on his face. However light it was, the joke broke the awkward silence between us, or maybe it wasn't a joke. Okay, he won. Ugh, why did he have to look so damn attractive when he smiled? Wait, holy shit. I wasn't actually checking him out, was I? I couldn't have been. Gross.

---

I turned on the showerhead as a huge gush of water streamed down and hit my back, hard. In a pleasant way. I felt like it was cleaning off the grime and sweat, using brute force. I stood under the flow of water, just enjoying the steady rhythm of it gushing, down, warm and comforting. It still stung my burn wound but then again, it had healed considerably well in the past day after Gerard had wrapped it and applied medication. God, I loved this shower. No wonder Gerard told me not to use the shower upstairs; it was so much more luxurious than the one downstairs. Gold taps, foaming shower cream.. man, I was living the life, even if it was only for a few moments, it still counted, considering that with standards like mine, opportunities like these were few and scarce.

Silly Gerard, thinking I wouldn't find out the majestic upper floor toilet, trying to prevent me from using it. I giggled to myself, he wasn't nearly as smart as I had estimated. The soap suds streamed down my body and back, bringing with it all the dirt and blood and sweat. I massaged my scalp, the lather forming around my fingers, and watched as the water cascaded down my back like a waterfall, cleansing me of my physical impurities. It was so relaxing.

A gasp behind me caused me whip my head around violently, as I stared into the unreadable eyes of none other than Gerard Way, shocked, and staring at me.

Naked.