Thirty~

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Don't make me sad, don't make me cry
Sometimes love is not enough and the road gets tough, I don't know why

Bert was ready. He had prepared himself in the best way possible, alcohol and unhealthy ego boosting. Now with slighty blurry vision and temporarily raised confidence he held the vulgar photos of Gerard in his shaking hands. The photos Gerard was afraid to take for his own lover because he feared that someone would see him like this.

Bert sat in the center of his unmade bed with some photos spread neatly around him others in between his crossed legs and others he was holding, the more obscene ones the closest.

He was going to text Gerard the photos and a vauge message instructing him to meet him someplace private. Gerard would of course oblige, being the constantly afraid human he is would of course oblige. He would be so easy to manipulate since Bert had the best blackmail known to man kind. He had personal photos that could be leaked anonymously to anyone he wanted. The church, his father, the school. . . Frank. Of course each choice would have a completely different outcome but would all result in Gerard being humiliated one way or another.

Bert was nervous. He knew that this was wrong. His brain wasn't that fucked that he thought this was some how okay, but he definitely couldn't see just how terrible it was. His mind was clouded by a love so blinding that he might as well be walking with his eyes closed.

His hands shook at such an alarming rate that the photos in his hands seemed to be blured. His tears rolled down his cheeks and he dared to let out a weak sounding whimper.

Bert was also weak. Too weak to start off a normal relationship, mostly because he didn't know how. Too weak to let Gerard be and continue his bullshit life on his own. Too weak to fight for what he wanted without being irrational. But then again who was there to help him realize this? No one. It was just he and his damaged brain trying to find order now that his mother had just gone and left him alone, still unprepared and too scared to be unprotected.

There was a loud bang at his door that made him flinch overdramaticly thank to his jittery nerves.

"Bert!" His father yelled. Bert stayed silent. "Listen, I know you can hear me." He sighed.

Bert still stayed quiet, only sniffing.

"I'm sorry you're upset, but it's your fault that I had to yell, Bert, you know that." His father said.

He must have thought that the reason Bert was so distraught was the episode yesterday, little did he know it was much, much worse. Bert still nodded in response to his father stating that it was all his fault.

"Anyways, I'm going to the store. If you want anything specific tell me now."

Bert was definitely hungry, but couldn't bring himself to speak. He said nothing once more causing his father to sigh and walk away. He knew that he'd be forced to speak to his dad at some point but now was most definitely not the time.

Bert got up after he heard the door open and close to think and then clean up some. The house was beginning to adapt a smell and Bert couldn't possibly sit there and wait until it became permanent. He scrubbed evey inch of the house with full effort not missing a spot. He was sweating by the sime he was done and the smell qas gone and replaced with the strong stench of bleach that Bert had become fond of. Once everything was clean he took a shower that lasted over an hour. He needed it.

Once back in his room he locked the door and picked up his phone. He was going to call Gerard now. The phone rung once, twice, three times before Gerards sickly sweet voice greeted him.

𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐚 † 𝐟.𝐠Where stories live. Discover now