Summertime (Frerard)

47: The Sacred And Profane

"Bert." I repeated to myself, but this time aloud, and so Gerard could hear, and with a name like that, I caught his attention almost immediately: we shared a grimace before his gaze followed mine to the cellphone lying on the backseat, and he inhaled sharply, knowing all too much and all too little, and all at once.

"How?" I continued, breaking the silence a second time, only for my boyfriend to ignore my query and slam his foot down on the acceleration, driving away from his problems, except that little problem of his, resided right in his backseat. "He's dead." I stressed, as if Gerard, of all people didn't already know.

"Yeah, I made well fucking sure of that when I shot him." Gerard rolled his eyes, almost reluctant to speak, but the urge to slap me across the face with a sarcastic remark winning overall, because that was really just Gerard's arrogance, for you, and that was something I'd had to grow almost reluctantly used to over the past months which I'd come into acquaintance with the asshole. 

"I know... I know you did, but there's still no explanation to the fact that he is calling you right now, or well he was, but you just didn't pick up..." I let out a sigh, wondering whether he should have picked up the call at all: talking to Bert, even if he was dead, was just a bad idea all around, and I was well aware of that, but well, I was curious, and it was going to be the death of me some day.

"He's not calling me." Gerard snapped, ignoring me, his eyes directed only upon the road in front of him as he shredded miles between us and home like it was nothing, and for someone who'd been trying their best to persuade him into going home for the past few days, I really had nothing to complain about, did I? "His phone is."

But that was how it always was with Gerard, there was always something to complain about, because there was always something wrong, and there was always something to worry about, something to complain about, and there was always something driving me crazy, and it was usually him, and that was always just how it would be, because things were never just simple, and really, I could never want them to be, because after all, that would just be boring, wouldn't it?

Maybe sometimes, though, boring was good, and when your boyfriend's dead ex-boyfriend was calling, and your boyfriend was refusing to comment upon the matter in anything other than a tone dripping with sarcasm, maybe then you needed boring.

"What does that even mean, Gerard?" I exhaled, putting my feet up on the dash, only for him to scowl at momentarily, rolling his eyes just a little, but generally doing no more than passing a thought of irritation, before pulling his gaze away and focusing on the absolute trouble my words had brought him.

"That means that it doesn't necessarily have to be him using it." He rolled his eyes at me, almost as if it was bringing him physical torture to endure my questioning, and I began to wonder if he seriously expected me to just shut up and let him make several thousand bad decisions until we got home, and then just watch as he screamed and shouted and eventually fucked things up with his family too.

He had a much better family than I did, and I wanted to ensure he didn't put that to waste, that he didn't put them to waste, because family are always supposed to be there for you, even if like in my case, it's not always like that.

"So what do you think's going on then?" I asked him, perhaps just a little genuinely, because really, I didn't know what the hell to think, because maybe Bert wasn't dead, but it was again very likely that he was, and even further unlikely that he was calling Gerard from the grave - that was just ridiculous, and I could even just bat off the thought, Gerard however, he just... looked... distant, almost like he knew something, and that he knew what this was, and I hated that, I hated that about him, because I knew that no matter what I said to him now, he still would never even dream of telling me, even if it was to save his own life.