Demolition Lovers (A Gerard Way Story)

Chapter Twelve; The Coffee Shop's New Poet Laureate

He stayed over that night. Dad took my bed, Gerard gave me his, which led to his sassy ass on the couch. Not like he'd bitch though. That couch is soooooo comfy. The next morning we were scheduled to go to the coffee shop to watch the burnout caffeine junkies preform horrible haikus, and other forms of poetry. Ray was coming with too. He was always down for some burnout humor.

I was heading to the kitchen about to make yet another pot of coffee. I've figured that my horrid coffee addiction has come from my father's side. Not that that was a secret. Gran, and Uncle Kasey were notorious for being coffee whores. 

My dad had just walked in and looked me up and down. I had actually kinda cared about what I looked like today. I wanted him to see what I was really capable of dressing like. I had on a black pleated skirt with chains going across it, with my knee high black combat boots, a black  Kill-Joy (our fantasy band) t-shirt, the band name was in blood red letters, that were dripping down the shirt. Gee and I designed it last week. It was pretty mellow-groovtasitc. I had blood red highlights in my hair, and my usual dark makeup. My zipper earrings, and my single hoop lip ring, that I just pierced the night before. All in all I'd say I looked pretty awesome. 

He just rolled his eyes at me and proceeded to ask about our outing.

"You really wanna see that Kayla?"

"Of course dad. It's a great way to get a good laugh. Come with us. Please?"

"Fine. Though it'll remind me of your uncle."

"How is Uncle Kasey? I haven't talked to him in a week or so."

"He's doing good. He's finally decided to take that waitress at the coffee shop out of a date. 'Bout damn time if you ask me."

"Oh yeah, I remember him telling me about her. What's her name? Cissy?"

"Something like that."

"Hope he doesn't screw it up-"

"-Like the last time?"

"Yeah...."

"What are you guys talking about?"

Gerard walked in the kitchen, mug for coffee already in his hand. I swear it never leaves his hand. Nor would I want it to. It's a part of him.  He looked like a dark angel. Hair in his eyes, a Smiths t-shirt, with his black pants and combat boots. A smidgen of eyeliner on his lower lash line. He was perfection, and I...I was losing it. My feelings had neither left, nor dwindled a titch. In fact, they only grew everyday. And I was left with unrequited love, and a great disdain for anything mushy and romantic. Not that I cared for that kind of thing before, but still...ugh.

His eyes had bulged out of his head when he saw me. Which was a tad bit odd. I mean he's see me in nothing but a towel, why would this be any different?

"So Gee when's the surgery?"

"What surgery?"

"You know, the one where they permanently attach that coffee mug to your hand."

He looked down and rolled his eyes at me. 

"Oh hardy har har. Now pour me some go juice so we can people watch."

I rolled my eyes right back. 'People watching' riiiigggtttt. We were going for a laugh. It was going to be a real horror show. (And for those of you that are avid Clockwork Orange fans will get that lovely reference. Hat tip of my bowler to my Droogs.)

"Fine fine you sassy bitch. Here's your go juice, now are we ready? Dad?"

"Yeah, I'm ready."

"Are you ready Ray?"