I'm melting in your eyes
I lost my place, could stay a while
And I'm melting in your eyes
Like my first time that I caught fire
Just stay with me, lay with me now
❧
The bad thing about living in such a small town: word gets around fast. Rumors spread twice as quickly, like a bad rash. Before you know it, everyone from your neighbors to the crack addicts on the other side of town have heard tell of your horrific 12th birthday that involved a manic clown, a pocket knife, and 200 mg of Oxycodone. As for Gerard, he took it upon himself to keep verbal damage to his reputation (and self-esteem) as minimal as possible. Although, to be fair, both of those were rather obscure.
The incident created shockwaves of panic in the community, and the police launched an investigation. After news broke that a group of armed delinquents had ambushed a local shop and attacked the only working employee, fear ensued amongst other businesses. Moreover, parents were alarmed at the disclosure that said delinquents were affiliated with a larger drug-ring in the neighboring state of New York. It didn't help Gerard's case that the local news anchor got ahold of the store's surveillance tapes for their five o'clock report. By the end of the day, the entire town knew of the attack.
The rumors, in turn, were ridiculous.
It was during times like these that the public did what the public does best: weigh in with their own crazy theories and conspiracies. Mikey and Ray had heard colleagues discussing the situation, and man, were they reaching. Their favorite: that the dangerous men worked for the "undercover" employee (i.e. Gerard), but were dissatisfied with his "ring-leader" role, which led to the attack. Another one they heard was that the men were quite possibly loan-sharks – that they came to collect what Gerard owed them in money used on drugs. After a while, Gerard tried not to pay them much mind. It was pointless.
It had been a long and agonizing trip to the emergency room; talking to the police downtown even more so. After the nurse extracted the glass remnants and treated Gerard's busted lip, (thankfully without the need of stitches), the Way brothers had met up with investigators at the station after a worried phone call from the store's owner. He wasn't happy, to say the least, but he wasn't upset with Gerard either. That was one less thing to worry about. In fact, because of the accident, it meant that the store was going to be closed for at least a week for the insurance company to assess and pay for damages. Though, being relieved of work didn't alleviate his racing mind.
Recalling the brawl wasn't any easier the second time, or even the third. But after an hour of describing the dangerous men in detail, giving the police extensive information on Frank, and apologizing profusely, Gerard was left feeling more than drained. It was like his body was too tired to even process what he was thinking and seeing in color. Everything was dull, gray, muted. He felt a burning static under his clammy skin. But worst of all, he was unable to shake the thought of Heath coming after him – finishing what he had started. He knew he would find him eventually, and he dreaded that.
❧
After a private and rather emotional recount of the incident, paired with Mikey's back pats and Ray being called over to bring donuts and Starbucks, Gerard was finally sitting upright on the couch as he wiped away tears. His entire body was in hot, stinging pain, especially in the face. He then saw his reflection on the TV in front of them. His hair was disheveled, there was butterfly tape on his cuts, and his bruises were darkening. He looked disgusting. Ugly.
He grabbed the remote to turn on the pixelated screen. He exhaled, perhaps in relief or perhaps in dread as it washed away his reflection and drowned the blaring silence in the room.
"I didn't know Frank had turned into...such an asshole." Mikey spoke. "We were always cool in high school. I mean, we weren't close like you guys but, y'know, this is just..." He shook his head. "A drug ring? In New York? They seriously said that?"
Gerard kept his silence.
"Hey, they're not going to hurt you again. They'll be locked up by the end of this."
Ray nodded in agreement. "He's right, man. And Frank, he's an asshole with asshole friends. He'll go down too. Don't worry." He rubbed his back.
The thing is, despite the awful things that Frank had done – or hadn't done – Gerard didn't want to see him locked up or even caught. He still cared for him. Deeply. Then again, Frank probably wouldn't want anything to do with him, and that scared Gerard. He knew that if Frank were to somehow be released, he wouldn't come back and explain everything like he had said. He would flee the first chance he got, and that was something he wasn't ready for. One year had been hard enough. He needed to wrap his head around the idea of living without Frank — forever.
"Hey. How 'bout we go out and do something?" Ray suggested. "You wanna get out of town? I think it'll help get your mind off of things."
Gerard inched away. "Thanks, but no thanks. I think I just want to sleep the weekend away. Ray, you have no idea how sorry I am for your uncle's store. I swear I'll come up with the money somehow."
Ray put up his hand halfway through his rambling. "Dude. Don't sweat it. You serious? He knows it wasn't your fault. He'll figure it out somehow. Insurance and stuff, y'know?"
Mikey's eyes widened. "Oh, yeah. Did you ever find out what happened to the guys who did all that to the store? Did the police catch them? Where are they now?"
Ray shook his head. "Apparently, they only caught the man who was seriously hurt from the window accident. His name is, like, Shawn or something? My uncle said he's gonna be questioned after he's out of the hospital. Frank and the other two had escaped by the time the police arrived, unfortunately."
Gerard's arms speckled with goosebumps. Heath was on the run, along with Frank.
He was going to find him.
He was going to kill him.
And maybe Frank
was already dead.
"By now they must be on the run." Mikey concluded. "Maybe they went back to New York."
Ray turned towards Gerard. "You need to get out and be around people. Go to a movie, go for a walk – do something. You can't just stay in your room rotting away."
"Why not? It's what I do most weekends anyway." Gerard shrugged, taking a bite of his donut. Ray cringed as some of the custard plopped onto Gerard's lap.
"I know it's bad right now," Mikey intervened. "But hiding away in your room all day next to a pile of vomit isn't going to do you any good."
"It could if you left me to it." Gerard mumbled, only half joking. "Which you will now do. Thanks for coming over — see you next weekend." He pulled the blanket over himself and then fell on his side, hoping they got the hint.
"G, it'll be—"
"Just go! Please. I appreciate you both for trying but...please. I don't want to be angry with either of you."
His two friends exchanged worried looks. Without sharing a single word, they both knew there was nothing they could say or do to further comfort him. He was beyond devastated by the whole situation and his depressed state pulled on their heartstrings. He was a picture of pure agony and wretchedness so severe they could almost see a blue glow emanating from his miserable figure. They got up and walked out the door, where it closed with a small click.
And so Gerard closed his eyes
and he began to cry.
❧
Sometimes that's all you can do. No amount of talking or drinking or religion can soothe the pain you feel deep in your soul. And that's what Gerard felt. Genuine gut-wrenching torture. And it was all because of Frank. Even if he hadn't inflicted any physical damage, his silence and lack of compassion had cut deep, leaving Gerard's heart throbbing, writhing in pain, and bleeding out.
A few hours passed before Ray and Mikey returned that night, much to Gerard's dismay, and at full force. Despite his grim state, they had decided that he was going to join them in forgetting the incident of the past two days. After taking him out to a nice dinner at a niche restaurant (which took a lot of convincing), Ray and Mikey suggested taking a walk.
What Gerard didn't expect was that they would end up pulling into a college party on the other side of town. It was bad enough that his brother and equally psychotic best friend had dragged him out of his comfy bed and Pjs on the weekend, but Mikey tricking and then offering up his own brother to play beer pong with drunk, horny, egotistical juveniles was out of the question. The other thing that frightened him was the party paraphernalia.
It was not his scene.
And he simply couldn't hold his liquor.
Mikey was dragging Gerard by the arm while Ray was pulling on the other. The three of them were staggering throughout the hallway of the dimly-lit house. As to whose house it was – they had no idea. Perhaps some student's parents who were out of town, they concluded. Gerard tried to get a hold of another person or a railing to stop them in their tracks but to no avail. He stretched his arms out to both sides. Greasy walls were revealed where the dull striped wallpaper was beginning to peel away from mold, and he noticed small burn marks where people had put out their cigarette butts. The floors, he realized, were lubricated in spilled beer and sodas, leaving a sticky and slippery surface to walk on. He made a disgusted face with each step. You could quite literally see and taste the thick cloud of weed they were swimming in.
"Dude, Mikey," He tugged on his sleeve, "I've had a drink, used the disgusting bathroom here, and been offered a blunt more than once. Let's get goin' already, huh?"
His brother looked over at Gerard's pout. "It'll just be a bit longer, I promise. I bet Ray twenty bucks he couldn't get the number of the girl he likes on top of a kiss!" He nudged Ray in the ribs. "And who knows, maybe you'll get lucky, too." He winked.
Gerard swallowed a lump. He knew Mikey's way of joking, but even the thought of pressing his lips against other person's was frightening. He could only imagine the hypothetical moment his deprived lips made contact with someone else's, pressing hard and moving fast against each other in a vexing rhythm. Not that Gerard was very experienced in that area, to begin with. His first and only kiss hadn't been a very good one, from what he recalled. He pushed that memory deep into the back of his brain.
Exasperated, he let them lead the way to the entrance of the living room where they saw about a dozen guys standing around a fold-up table with cups arranged in a triangular pattern.
Mikey stopped them in their tracks and grabbed Gerard by both shoulders, giving him a serious look. "Hey, before you go, you have to forget about what happened with Frank." He explained. "Forget about him tonight, alright, and try to have some fun. You got this."
He then dragged him to the center of the room where two opposing teams were at the ends of the table, eager to get their game on, while a group of bystanders surrounded them with drinks of their own. Mikey and Ray joined in on the spectacle, leaving Gerard on his own.
"Hey. You here to join the game of champions?"
Gerard turned to see the person behind the raspy voice. It was a young man, garbed in very loose-fitting pants and a large T-shirt like himself.
"Uh, no. I mean...yeah. Yes. I guess so."
The guy grinned and casually threw his arm around his shoulders, leading him towards the table. "Awesome. You're on my team. Don't let me down." He handed him a ping-pong ball. "It's your go."
Gerard managed a weak smile. He took the ball from him and watched as he took a slow drag of his cigarette. For a moment, the man caught him staring and shot him a sideways grin before turning his attention back to the game. He looked so vaguely familiar and it irked Gerard that he couldn't remember where he'd seen him. Maybe around the game store.
Regardless, he was absolutely alluring.
Long black hair draped to about shoulder's length, where small curls sprouted at its ends. He had a very sharp brow bone, which contrasted his soft button nose, thin lips, and pronounced cupid's bow. He had light stubble – still young – with bushy, dirty-blonde brows, and under that, the most striking blue eyes. They were so clear and bright, which complimented his other dark features. His baggy jeans had a few holes and sported Sharpie scribbles on his shoes. One in particular was of an ejaculating penis drawn in sparkly ink. He stifled a laugh and then turned to look at the game.
As he prepared to make his landing, Ray and Mikey cheered him on, at which Gerard turned away in embarrassment. He focused on the ball, steadily placed his hand out, and tossed it — right past the cups where it bounced on the floor. Their opponents laughed and readied their shot.
Gerard rubbed his eyes, hoping Mikey didn't hear their taunts. "Sorry," He mumbled. "I've never played before. Not to mention my hand-eye coordination is fucked."
His partner took a step forward and snickered. "Lucky for you, I happen to be an expert in beer pong, among other things. I'll carry us. Just follow my lead. Watch this shit, you ready?" He took his turn, effortlessly sinking his ball into one of the cups on the opposite side to which they drank.
"You make it look so easy."
The boy laughed, stepping closer to him. "I've got talent in more than just my hands." He was almost whispering. "Maybe I'll show you sometime."
The comment caught Gerard off guard, which only made the boy in front of him smirk to himself. He didn't know how to take it. Was it supposed to be a joke? Was this how regular guys teased each other? He wanted to respond but the words wouldn't come. He simply stood there, rooted to the floorboards while he felt a mix of confusion and strange attraction. Smiling back was all he could do as he saw the boy take a swing from his cup.
As the game progressed, it was evident in Gerard's face that another drink could send him over the edge. The boy to his right was picking up the slack, while Gerard was left to drink cup after cup. Meanwhile, the raven-haired boy beside him couldn't conceal the crazed look in his eyes. He was cackling excitedly as he prepared to take another shot, surrounding himself with the pile of wasted party-goers who just couldn't keep their hands to themselves. He took the lead, sinking shots effortlessly and pumping up the crowd with his wild antics. Meanwhile, Gerard's throws are inconsistent, often missing their mark, and his frustration was visible.
"Alright, it's your go again." His partner turned to him. "We've got one cup left. You make this and we rule tonight." He handed him a ball and then gleamed an innocent smile. "No pressure."
Gerard nervously took the ball and stepped up to take his shot. He could feel everyone's eyes on him, but he blocked out the noise and focused on the task at hand. The last cup was towards the left, meaning it wasn't going to be a clean sail. He took one deep breath before he took aim. He shot the ball and, miraculously, it landed in the cup with a clunk. The room erupted in cheers and Gerard felt a wave of relief wash over him.
He actually had a smile tugging on his lips. He felt proud. Happy.
That is, until he turned to look back at his partner, who was gone. Or rather, he wasn't aware of the victory, as he was drawn in conversation with someone else. He hadn't seen him take the winning shot, and that irritated him.
Gerard's stomach then decided it was the right moment to pour out the admission pass for playing the game. He stumbled outside, barely making it to the porch railing before he leaned over and vomited into the bed of blue hydrangeas. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before wiping away the vomit from his throbbing lip. His body trembled as he attempted to regain his composure. The cool autumn air helped deliver a brief interlude from the chaos inside. But he berated himself for pushing his limits.
"Shit. Too much."
Gerard wiped his mouth once more and straightened himself up before stepping back into the warm, crowded living room. His vision was blurry, or maybe it was the cloud of weed making everything harder to spot familiar faces. The music was loud, so much so, that he could barely make out Ray and Mikey's voices in the sea of people. As much as he felt relieved to hear their voices, his heart soon took an arrow when he caught snippets of a newly familiar voice. A sweet one that belonged to his partner's conversation, which was coated in laughter and animated gestures directed at the other boy from before. They were leaning against the railing of the upstairs ledge, completely entranced in their own exchange. Gerard's insecurities intensified. So he quietly slipped away from the crowd, suddenly feeling very aggravated. He had wanted to share this moment with him, even if he hadn't initially believed in himself.
For the first time ever, he yearned for the confidence and outgoing nature that seemed to come effortlessly to others.
❧
When Ray and Mikey finally spotted him, he was found sulking on the couch of the farthest right corner, crushed between two couples who were making out. The girls, each wearing short skirts and crop tops, were grinding on their boyfriends' laps, moaning loudly without shame into the wave of music and laughter. At one point, the two girls reached over Gerard and interlaced their fingers, which only made the men moan louder. All the while, Gerard was oblivious, eyeing the ceiling with his mouth agape. His eyes were glossed over and his hands gripped the edges of the seat.
"Woah! Okay, let's get you out of there, buddy." With one swift move, Ray hauled Gerard onto his feet. "And you...people...need to get a goddamn room, cause fuck, dude." He made a disgusted face as they walked away.
"Hey, you alright?" Mikey patted his brother's back. "What were you doing over there?"
"Mike—Mikey." Gerard slurred between hiccups. "I don't feel very good."
He tried his hardest to maintain his balance upright and keep the acidic contents inside his stomach. His veil of black hair was sticking to his forehead with sweat. Mikey propped him up, keeping him standing with one arm over his shoulders.
"Oh shit, are you okay? Oh my god, are you gonna throw up? Should I take you home now?"
"No." He protested. "I'm good. Dandy. You and Ray keep playing. I'll just—" He doubled over, ready to puke all over the carpet.
"Alright, okay, I'm taking you home."
"No!" Gerard broke free from his grasp. "You've been drinking. S'dangerous."
"I'll get Ray to drive us, then."
He shook his head in a childlike manner. "I'm fuckin' fine. I'm gonna...I'm just gonna go upstairs and wash up. Be right down, jus' gimme a s-sec."
So Mikey let go of him, guarding him from afar with hand motions that extended towards the wobbly figure making his way to the base of the stairs. With great hesitance, he watched his brother navigate the chaos alone.
It must have been past midnight at this point, yet the party was in full swing, engulfing a buzzed Gerard in a chaotic blend of pounding music, laughter, and the nutty scent of alcohol. The filthy house was packed with ravers, bodies swaying and voices shouting over the deafening beats of hip-hop.
Gerard, his senses dulled by intoxication, felt the urge to hurl and stumbled towards the nearest bathroom. He weaved through the crowd, occasionally bumping into men and women who were lost in their own drunken revelry. The air was thick with the smell of spilled beer and the pungent aroma of sweat. His head spun as he finally reached the bathroom on the ground floor. Gerard tried the doorknob only to find that it was locked.
"Goddamnit."
Frustration gnawed at him, urging him to quickly find an alternative. The smell of booze on his own lips made him want to pump the contents of his stomach but he tried his hardest to keep it in until he made it to a bathroom. With heavy feet, he trudged his way through the crowd that was gathered along the staircase. God, it was an awful stench. He held in his disgust until he reached the second floor, each step a precarious dance as he navigated the clutter of bodies.
He pushed open what seemed to be a bedroom door, revealing a dimly lit space. There was a bed in the farthest right corner, tucked in bright orange bed sheets and matching satin pillow cases. The bed wasn't made. Throw pillows were dumped on the carpeted floor, where heaps of laundry, shoes, books, and cups also accumulated.
Ignoring the unkemptness of this stranger's bed, Gerard's bleary eyes focused on the private bathroom that was attached to the room. The door was slightly ajar, revealing a warm glow within. He stumbled over a few steps — until he heard muffled sounds.
"Fuck."
The obscene word was dragged out, and the voice that let it spill was low, gritty. Curiosity got the better of him. Gerard leaned forward, slowly and quietly peering through the narrow crack of the open door. His eyes widened at the scene and he almost let out a string of curses himself.
Leaning away from the sink, illuminated only by the warm, dim light above the mirror, stood the raven-haired man from before, eyes shut and mouth hung open towards the ceiling as he tugged harshly on a younger man's blonde hair who was on his knees.
It was a moment of stolen intimacy. A mix of embarrassment and guilt washed over him. His heart was pounding loudly in his chest. Perhaps it was because of the loud thumping that the scene was abruptly interrupted, as the standing figure glanced towards the door and locked eyes with Gerard, not changing his aroused expression and definitely not ceasing his moaning.
Gerard couldn't look away despite his mind's begging. The man's jaded eyes didn't break contact with him. Another moan escaped from his lips and his voice hitched. His fist continued to tug and pull, each stroke sending him closer to the edge. Gerard could feel an uncomfortable tension growing within him and his intoxicated mind was suddenly aware of his intrusion. When his body accepted the urge to leave, he quickly and quietly stumbled out of the room, ignoring the rage in his pants.
He stumbled down the hallway, desperately searching for familiar faces amidst the sea of strangers. A wave of embarrassment washed over him to a point he felt he was drowning in a heavy heat. Finally, he spotted Mikey and Ray waiting for him near the staircase, concern etched on their faces. They could see he was unsettled, but Gerard couldn't bring himself to confess. Instead, he brushed off their questions, his voice low and strained.
"Never mind. Let's get out of here."