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The bulb flickered, its dim light barely illuminating the cramped hallway. Gerard watched, anticipating for the moment when it would finally blow out and leave him in the dark. Yet it persisted, offering some comfort to him as it continued to buzz. He exhaled, eyes glancing over to the vacant stairwell, hoping to eventually hear the echo of your bounding footsteps. Where were you?
He dropped his bag onto the floor and whipped out his phone for the umpteenth time. Turning it on, Gerard was immediately greeted by the sight of your smiling face. If he squinted, he could make out the blurry familiar Warped Tour’05 sign hanging up behind you. For a moment he just gazed at the photo, as a flurry of emotions swelled in his chest. Shit, that was over a year ago.
Blinking away the memory, Gerard proceeded to dial your number. He slouched against the wall beside your front door, and held it up to his ear, anxiously pulling at his bottom lip as your phone rang and rang.
“Fuck,” he muttered, hanging up. He quietly groaned, as he realized he might have to camp outside your apartment door for another half hour until you returned. Gerard attempted to entertain himself with the buzzing light bulb, counting each time it blinked until he could no longer tell the difference.
When someone rushed up the steps, he immediately straightened up, waiting to see your familiar face emerge. Disappointment washed over him as he realized it was just another tenant, who had been out walking their canine. The lady glanced over at him warily, keeping the dog close to her hip as they both disappeared into one of the many apartment doors lining the wall across from him.
Gerard rubbed at his jaw, feeling his stomach clench. His fingers were itching for a cigarette, but he just stuffed them in his jean pockets and leaned his head back against the wall. Jet lag had settled in his bones like an old friend, anchoring his legs to the floor. There wasn’t a single thought in his mind that didn’t involve him passing out on a sofa or mattress, hell he would even take a simple sleeping bag. It weighed him down, the exhaustion always prevalent on his weary face, despite the layers of makeup and powder.
Someone was coming up the stairs again, their steps careful as if aware of their own echo. He craned his head and peered down the dimly lit hallway to finally see your approaching figure. It felt like seeing a beacon out at sea, or a streetlamp on a dark corner, as he sighed in relief and pushed himself off the wall.
Your eyes found him, widening in surprise. A grin split on your lovely face, as you rushed towards him. He let out an airy laugh as you threw your arms around his shoulders and proceeded to bury your face in his neck. Gerard’s heart stuttered, as the sharp scent of your perfume caused his stomach to coil. There was a sense of home as he hugged you. It was intimate, and familiar, reminding him of nostalgic nights as a child when the world felt much vaster than it did now.
Back when time felt infinite.
“You’re here, holy shit, you’re here,” you whispered, somehow tugging him closer. His throat tightened at the sudden sound of your sniffles, as your trembling hands dug into the fabric of his coat.
Gerard pulled back, his mouth pulled down in concern as he peered at your face. A few tears had managed to trail down your flushed cheek. He carefully brought his hand up to cup your jaw and swiped at the remaining tears with his thumb – your skin soft and warm beneath. You shyly smiled and removed his hand to lace your fingers together.
“When did you get here?” you asked, glancing over at his bag – which still sat on the floor.
“Almost an hour ago,” he said, shrugging.
You winced. “Shit, I’m sorry. You know how traffic can be in New York.”
He huffed, as he recalled the agonizing commute he had to sit and suffer through every day just to attend his classes. As lively as the city was, he was somewhat glad he didn’t have to deal with the never-ending line of cars and buses anymore.
“Trust me, I remember,” he said, shaking off the memory.
You faintly nodded, and seemed to analyze him for a second, taking in his slouched appearance. “Oh shit, your hair!” you suddenly exclaimed. Your hand reached up to brush at the platinum roots, as if you had forgotten the fact that he dyed it in the first place.
“Didn’t you see the picture I sent you?” he inquired, leaning into your touch. He let out a content sigh, his eyes nearly slipping back from the feeling of your fingers gently tugging at the strands.
“I did,” you assured, smiling at him. “It’s different seeing it in person though. How many slim shady jokes have you gotten so far?”
He snorted. “No one will be happier than me if I never that fuckers name again.”
You chuckled, and walked over to your apartment door, struggling with the lock for a moment before eventually nudging it open with your shoulder.
“Damn doorknob,” you muttered, stepping inside. Gerard swiftly picked up his bag and trailed after you, shutting the door behind him with his boot.
Your apartment was almost as cramped and tight as the hallway. It was a small box, with a kitchen shoved in the corner and a bedroom separated by an archway with a beaded curtain. Gerard dropped his bag by the door, and made a beeline for the couch, immediately sinking into the cushions. He couldn’t help the groan that escaped him as he tilted his back, the exhaustion finally catching up with him.
Gerard closed his eyes and listened to the faint sound of your feet shuffling around the apartment. He could feel your presence waltzing around him, as he heard you make your way to the kitchen and rummage through the cabinets.
“Coffee?” you offered. Despite how comfortable he was, the word was enough for him to pull his sluggish body up off the couch and drag his legs over to you. You placed two steaming mugs of coffee on the foldout dining table and sat down. Gerard sat across from you, wincing as the chair creaked beneath his weight.
“When does the new album come out?” you asked.
“In October,” he replied, taking a sip from his mug.
“Are you excited to embark on another 50-year tour?” You smirked over at him from behind the rim of your mug, the sight causing his heart to spike.
“I’m just relieved that the album is over with,” he said, “it felt like we were working on that fucking thing for forever.” A dry laugh escaped his lips as he peered down at the dark liquid.
Your eyes had dimmed, recollecting the numerous late-night calls when Gerard couldn’t sleep as the album occupied every bit of space in his head. He remembered those nights curled up in his bed, as the Paramour Mansion pressed down on his body like a weighted blanket, intent on suffocating him.
He rapidly blinked, shooing away that thought. Your hand had reached across the table to grasp onto his wrist, your thumb rubbing soothing circles over his pulse.
Gerard shuddered at the contact, his grip tightening on the ceramic handle of the mug. Fuck, why did he have to react this way? You were just friends, have been since college.
He cleared his throat. “Anyway, how have you been? I remember you were trying to go for that promotion; did it work out?”
You immediately brightened, your eyes twinkling at him like the the northern star.
“Yeah,” you said, smiling in relief. “I had to bust my ass to get it, but it eventually worked out.”
Gerard grinned, his chest swelling with pride. “Well, did you do anything to celebrate?”
“I didn’t really have time,” you said, shrugging. “My friend Katy tried to set me up on a date with her friend last week, talking about how I needed to let loose and have some “fun” to celebrate.”
Gerard felt his heart sink. “O-Oh,” he stuttered, glancing down at his mug. Your hand was still on his, caressing his wrist.
“How did it…go?” he cautiously asked.
“Not great,” you recalled, letting out a bitter laugh. “He showed up an hour late and then had the nerve to leave me with the fucking bill.”
“What a fucking tool.”
You snorted, nodding in agreement. Your gaze had traveled down to your hand, where you were absent mindedly drawing shapes against his skin.
Gerard swallowed – ignoring the pang in his heart— and carefully moved his hand, his fingers stretching over your own to interlock with them. The movement was cautious, as he focused on the lines of your palm pressed against his own.
You both then sat in a comfortable silence, finishing your bitter cups of coffee.
──
Gerard leaned against your balcony railing, a lit cigarette dangling in between his lips. He glanced up at the starless blanket cocooning the city, hoping to find even a speck among the pervasive night sky. He could feel the city’s heartbeat beneath him, pulsing with constant noise. From the hum of the cars down below, to the occasional giddy packs of friends huddled together as they argued about which bar to go to.
The nightlife brought a certain buzz to the air that Gerard felt come over him even from his place up on the balcony. He twitched, plucking the cigarette from his lip as he glanced down at the world below. A chill breeze caressed his face.
“Hey,” your soft voice came from behind, starling him. You giggled as he whipped around, wide eyed.
“Shit,” he breathed, “I didn’t hear you at first.”
You sidled up beside him. “Sorry about that.”
He sniffed, taking a long drag from his cigarette, humming from the bitter pallet.
“Are you alright?”
He quirked a brow. “Yeah, I was just…”
“Lost in your head?” you suggested, looking over at him.
He blushed, hating how obvious it was when he would space out.
“What’s on your mind?” you asked.
He scoffed, that was always the fucking question. What was on Gerard Way’s mind? The people want to know. The press wants to know. Your fans need to know.
You always look like you’re thinking about something, man.
Gerard glance over at you, to find your eyes patiently watching him. The city lights warm glow splashed over your face, caressing your features. He allowed himself to indulge in this image of you, his gaze following the slope of your nose to the angle of your jaw.
God, you were pretty. He always knew that, but it was startling at times. Gerard felt his stomach flip, as he realized he had been staring too long.
You shifted to properly face him now, your hand moving to grip onto the railing.
“Gerard, I-uh,” you started, struggling to find your voice. You looked off into the city, carefully searching for your next words.
He waited, growing anxious from your silence.
“I’m not imagining things, am I?” you eventually asked. “I mean this thing between us, whatever it is, it’s…something right?”
Gerard grew breathless, as he watched you stammer trying to explain yourself.
“Maybe I’m reading too much into it, but lately…” you trailed off, closing your eyes in frustration. “Fuck, forget it I’m probably not making any sense-
“No!” he interjected, reaching out to grab onto your forearm. “God, I’ve been thinking about you so much lately, but I didn’t want to risk anything and fuck our friendship over because of how I felt. But I really fucking like you, and it’s starting to scare the shit out of me,” he rushed out, the words pouring out of like a broken faucet.
Gerard waited for you to laugh, or shrug him off, and demand that he leaves. He stood, stiff as ever, as if the lack of movement made him invisible. Your silence rang out like a gun shot, the fragments lodging themselves in his heart as you just stared at him.
“Say something,” he quietly pleaded, his voice cracking.
A tender smile broke over your lips, the sight causing his heart to spike. Hope bloomed in his chest, the feeling small and cautious.
“Usually, you kiss a girl after a confession like that,” you said, grinning at him.
Gerard laughed, the sound so sudden and sharp he was unsure if it really came from him at first. He stepped forward, his hand inching forward on the rail until the tips of his fingers brushed over yours. His heart thudded in his chest, as his other hand traveled up your arm to softly caress your cheek. You leaned into his palm, your warm gaze flickering down to his lips.
He gently brushed his lips against yours, worried he might startle the moment. It felt like walking on a thin tight rope and waiting for it to snap. Gerard sighed as his lips met yours and immediately tasted the warm roast of coffee from earlier. You hummed against him, pressing forward. His thumb tenderly stroked your cheek, hoping to memorize its slope. Head buzzing, he hesitatingly deepened the kiss. His eyes rolled back, as your sweet mouth parted against him.
There were nights he dreamed about this, when the rhythm of the tour bus failed to lull him to sleep. He often imagined the soft sight of you, tucked into his side in the bunk, fingers toying with the string of his hoodie. Some nights he would drift off with that image in his head, and find his own hand tangled around the hoodies string.
Gerard surged forward, pressing your back against the rail. His fingers tugged at your belt loops, desperately wanting to become familiar with the mold of your body against his. The way it bent towards him, like a flower drawn to the sun. He felt feverish, as he dusted kiss along your jaw, only growing more eager as you let out a shaky breath.
He half wondered if this might be another dream and would soon find himself waking back up on the tour bus, the delicate press of your lips nothing but another fantasy he conjured up. Your faint pants in his ear, however, reminded him that he was in fact here, with you.
He traveled back up to meet your lips, groaning against their warmth.
The city had never seemed brighter.