A Revolution On Canvas (Frerard)

18: DO YOU LIKE SNAKES????

Gerard perhaps only realised as to just how bad an idea this had all been once it was over, once he'd been done with it, once he couldn't change it.

Once he found himself sat in Brian's front room, cigarette in hand, some rubbish on low on the TV in the corner, and the French teacher stood up in the corner, on the phone to his wife. On the phone to poor Mrs Molko, who didn't have a clue.

She wouldn't ever have a clue.

And perhaps that was for the best, because Gerard knew even right then that it had been a mistake, a fuck up, and one on a colossal scale, and he sat in Brian's living room, smoking Brian's cigarettes as if it was all okay.

It wasn't okay.

Gerard really fucking wasn't okay.

"She has to work late tonight." Brian ended the call and looked up, his words directed at Gerard. "You can stay for another hour or two." He stepped across the room, sitting down beside Gerard, and rubbing his forehead, "I need a drink." He announced, before getting up and making his way into the kitchen.

Gerard remained seated, silent, smoking, teeth wearing down at his bottom lip in time to his every thought wearing down on his conscience.

He shouldn't have done it.

Brian knew that too.

Brian had a wife.

Gerard had no one but his own conscience to adhere to, but still, that didn't get him off easily.

Because it hadn't been Brian's fault.

Sure, Brian Molko had been the one to meet Gerard outside at his smoking spot at break, having heard the odd rumour from a couple of girls in his French class that something was up with the art teacher, and indeed, he had gone to check it out, just to ask Gerard if he was okay, as friends do, because Brian and Gerard had been, and still were friends... Gerard hoped so at least.

Brian returned about a minute later with two wine glasses and a bottle of something posh and red, and in that moment, utterly vile in Gerard's eyes. "I guess you want one too." Brian added as he placed the two glasses down on the glass surface of the coffee table, just a few centimeters away from the ashtray that Gerard found himself furiously smoking into.

Gerard only shrugged in response, because truth be told, alcohol was the last thing he needed right now, but also the only thing he wanted right now. Much like Brian had been.

The older man poured wine into his glass too nonetheless. Gerard just looked at it, oddly, as if with suspicion.

And Gerard had broken down, right in front of the French teacher, back at school, and Brian had been concerned, because Brian was a decent human being, and it wasn't like Gerard should have asked for him to be apathetic. Brian understood him to a relatively good extent, and he'd lead Gerard inside, and the two had exchanged conversation in Gerard's room. Gerard sat on his chair, and Brian sat on his desk. The conversation had turned somewhat self-depreciating - a fault of Gerard's, and Brian hadn't appreciated that.

The French teacher had told him he was beautiful, and without a moment's hesitation. Gerard had kissed him. In much the same manner.

Gerard finished his cigarette, stubbing it out in the ashtray, turning to the man sat on the sofa behind him and shivering a little: shivering with thoughts: stained like red wine upon his mind. He glanced back down at the glass: waiting for him, patient, enticing. He gave into it - he was excellent at giving in today, it seemed.

"Is it alright?" Brian asked, nodding in relation to the wine. Gerard shrugged, before forcing himself into a nod.

"Is it alright?" Brian had asked, earlier that day, locking the art storeroom cupboard behind them, his hands about to pull off Gerard's jeans. Gerard had nodded, no sign of a shrug.