?

Log in

No account? Create an account

The Futurist

« previous entry | next entry »
May. 2nd, 2010 | 12:29 am

Title: The Futurist: Part Two
Author: ox_delirium_xo 
Pairing: Frerard (Frank/Gerard)
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Sometimes the biggest mistakes can lead to amazing things. Even if you've just run someone over.
Word Count: 1,796
Authors Note: No beta apart from MSWord, so point out any obvious problems and i'll fix them pronto.
Disclaimer: This isn't real (as far as we know). Please don't sue me, i'm a student and can't afford it.
Warning: Character death

BEEE-“Gerard dear, are you there? I called last night to check on you, but I guess you weren’t in... If you could call me or your brother when you get the chance, we’re just wondering how you are. Love you!”-CLICK.

Gerard winced as his ancient answering machine rewound, finishing yet another expensive tape full of messages asking where he is. He was glad to wake up, though; his night had been full of terrors, torn limbs and warped muscles, crawling towards him and he couldn’t find his car keys. It was just a dream, he always had them after he drank, just a dream, just a...

Hang on.

Vivid flashes of multicoloured skin and blood staining his car flashed in front of him. He carefully sat up and reached for his bedside lamp to see if he was right. Gerard hadn’t changed clothes when he got back last night; he had been too tired and too drunk. He was still wearing the dark stained shirt, and the same crimson patches covered his hands.

He ran to the bathroom, praying he would make it in time to throw up. His hangover made the whole thing worse; tastes and colours burnt his nerves and made him retch. He stayed in there for an hour, shaking and listening to the answering machine click and whir and repeat itself. Eventually he felt safe to move away – not to stand up though, not yet. He pulled himself into his bathtub and pulled down the shower head. He could still feel the moist, dead flesh on his fingertips, and he needed to wash it off.

Around midday Gerard was able to move into the living room; he had abandoned the previous night’s clothes in the bathtub and was dressed in the cleanest jeans and shirt he had. The answering machine was still choking on the finished tape, and it was giving him a headache; he wrestled with it, but too many failed attempts to retrieve the tape or turn it off ended with the machine swept onto the floor. A quick search of the kitchen revealed nothing but bottled sauces and rows of tins, a fridge with nothing in it but rancid milk and beer. He was going to have to go outside. There was a Starbucks right across the street, and he was fairly sure he could make it without fainting.

The queue was fine, but he felt the whole time like he was being watched. There was nowhere Gerard could look without catching someone’s eye, so he hurried back as soon as he could. Caffeine wasn’t the best thing for calming his nerves, but he knew it would help his hang over. Coffee fixes everything. He drew the curtains to block out the garish sunlight, and settled down on his couch to watch the television. He found some morning programme, the kind that always has stupidly good-natured stories like kittens stuck in trees or reports from local farmers’ markets. Gerard felt himself begin to relax, and he took a sip of coffee; it was scalding hot, but blissful. He flicked through the channels searching for something to watch, but his attention was caught by a blue banner scrolling across the bottom of a local news channel.

Some reporter with too much make up on was standing in the middle of a road, the road, explaining the ‘terrible scene that was found early this morning’. Shocked residents were weighing in their opinions, wondering how such a thing could happen on their doorsteps and worrying about the children. After the standard brief, vague statement from a policeman, a picture was shown on the screen; it was the body, the boy Gerard had hit, but alive. His hair hung in straggly bangs in front of his eyes, and he was smiling in such a goofy way that Gerard knew there was something more than alcohol behind it. There was no name attached to the photo since no identification as found, but there was a contact number. Gerard had tried not to think about the body too much, but now he couldn’t stop. Somewhere, a mother was crying desperately, a father trying to comfort her, maybe even siblings...

Gerard had destroyed a whole family.

He was kneeling on the floor now, his face inches away from the screen as the spilled coffee dripped off the edge of the table. He was waiting for the section where they explain how someone had miraculously seen the driver fleeing the scene, alongside a pencil drawing.

Have you seen this man?

He waited and waited, flicking between every news station he could find, but there were no witnesses – for now. Gerard reached for the remote and the television powered off with a static pop. He rested his head against the cool glass, trying to slow his breathing; he couldn’t ignore this now, could he? At the very least he knew he had to stay away from that area of town now, maybe get a haircut, maybe a new job. Maybe in Mexico.

The table behind him rattled, making Gerard turn to see what it was. His phone was lit up, the dull green screen lighting up a cloud of dust. He made a desperate grab for it, welcoming the distraction.

“...hello?”
“Bro! Finally, I’ve called you a million times. So what are we doing tonight?” Mikey. Gerard never bothered to save numbers but he recognised his brother’s voice instantly.
“Oh, uh, sure, we could go to a bar—“
“No, no bars, you promised me, remember?” Another wave of guilt washed over Gerard as he remembered swearing not to drink. “There’s a fairground set up just outside town. C’mon, man, you know you want to go. Think of the candyfloss.”
That made Gerard laugh; his brother always found a way to turn a perfectly normal night into something bizarre and unpredictable. Plus, it was unlikely there’d be any way to hear the news at the fair. They arranged to go later in the evening instead of the busy child-filled daytime, but Gerard needed to get ready anyway.

He needed to shower again.

***
They rode the rollercoaster seven times before they were finally forced to get off. Breathless, they found their way to a bench, where Mikey begged for ice-cream and Gerard dutifully handed over some money. They sat together for a while, watching the rides and happy little families; Gerard was watching a small boy, straining on his mother’s grasp to reach some balloons, and he must have tuned out.
“Hey. Hey Gee? What’s wrong?”
Gerard blinked and looked back at his brother. Mikey looked concerned, and Gerard’s ice-cream was dripping onto the grass.
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine, it’s nothing.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah, I just. I can’t stop thinking about, um, work. I need a commission soon, or I’ll lose my apartment.” That was a lie; Gerard didn’t have any commissions, but his landlady was pretty lenient. He had missed a couple of months before, but he was quiet and polite so she always let it slide. Mikey knew that too, and he didn’t look like he was buying it.
There was a silence, one that Gerard was familiar with, and he knew what was coming next.
“Look, if you’re having problems, y’know, with your drinking? We can talk about it. Everyone slips, Gee.” Mikey didn’t mean it as a confrontation, Gerard knew that. There were pigeons more confrontational than Mikey. However it still made him uncomfortable that it was referred to as 'his drinking', yet another problem. Well, the ultimate problem; he wouldn't even be in this mess if he hadn't gone to that bar. “At least let me stay over, you know I’ll just worry about you.”

Gerard smiled and nodded, trying to focus on rubbing the ice-cream off his shoe instead of the tight, fearful feeling in his chest. He could probably get Mikey to clean his apartment if he acted feeble enough. Gerard knew it was unfair, but they had always been close and they did as much as they could for each other. He knew he hadn’t really been performing his role of big brother lately, but he was going through a rough patch – fuck, a criminal patch – and he needed Mikey. If there was anyone Gerard could talk to about this, it was him. Eventually.

They sat for a while, lost in the spinning neon lights and ecstatic screams. It was comforting to be lost in the crowd, and they drove back to Gerard’s apartment with stomach aches and a backseat full of cuddly toys. Mikey had to leave for a while to pack some clothes – he was skinnier and taller than Gerard, and he knew Gerard probably hadn’t done any laundry anyway. Gerard spent his time waiting for Mikey in the dark. He shuffled around his apartment, checking and rechecking the curtains, flicking through the news channels, and just waiting.

The sudden knock on the door made Gerard jump, instant thoughts of every bad detective movie he’d ever seen racing through his mind, until he remembered why he was waiting and felt stupid. Mikey had brought Chinese food with him, far too much for just the two of them, but Gerard hadn’t eaten anything since the free bowl of nuts in the bar. They slipped easily into the routine conversation of what each of them was doing with their lives; Mikey was dating a girl he’d met at a concert, Gerard wasn’t dating anyone, and their mother was still married to their father and missed them both.

Gerard picked at his food while they talked, but as conversation circled more specific topics he found it harder and harder to swallow. He knew he should tell Mikey. Mikey would understand, even if he had a panic attack first, but the chance never seemed to present itself. There was a comfortable silence while they both watched some ridiculous lizard-monster storm across what was quite clearly a tiny model city. Gerard began to wonder if it would be easier to talk to Mikey in public – less chance of a scene. Or chance of a fucking huge scene. Either way, there’d be coffee and he could leave if he wanted to.

“You know, I could take you to that comic store tomorrow.”
“The one with the basement?” Mikey had been begging to go there for months; the basement was where all the serious comics were kept, the ones in their own plastic covers with cardboard backing. Sometimes, there were holographic covers.
“Yeah. I think they’re hiring too, so I might try and, you know, get a real job.”
“Awesome.” Mikey went back to his food, and that was it. Gerard fell asleep on the couch soon after, his plate still piled with untouched noodles.

Link | Leave a comment | Share

Comments {13}

smile_surgery

(no subject)

from: cigarettes21
date: May. 2nd, 2010 12:37 am (UTC)
Link

Hi!
I read this chapter and the previous one and, okay I'm seriously intrigued. I guess Gerard collided to Frank (poor Frank...) so I wanna know how they'll meet and how things will going on.
You cacthed my interest!
Great job!
I hope you'll post another chapter soon.

Reply | Thread

This is no Bridget Jones.

(no subject)

from: ox_delirium_xo
date: May. 5th, 2010 06:55 pm (UTC)
Link

I'm glad you like it!

More should be up soon, I just need to write it first...

Reply | Parent | Thread

Carri

(no subject)

from: equinescientist
date: May. 2nd, 2010 12:40 am (UTC)
Link

I just kept freaking out that Mikey was going to find the bloody clothes!!

Reply | Thread

This is no Bridget Jones.

(no subject)

from: ox_delirium_xo
date: May. 5th, 2010 06:57 pm (UTC)
Link

Oh we haven't got to that yet. Mwahaha.

Reply | Parent | Thread

Hello me, it's me again...

(no subject)

from: yekith
date: May. 2nd, 2010 09:44 pm (UTC)
Link

Ok, you got me really curious about where this is going, so I'll be reading for sure! I suck at commenting lately, though....I mean, I'll comment, but might say nothing too useful. :P

Reply | Thread

This is no Bridget Jones.

(no subject)

from: ox_delirium_xo
date: May. 5th, 2010 06:57 pm (UTC)
Link

All comments are good comments!

More up soooon.

Reply | Parent | Thread

Luna Lovegood

(no subject)

from: psychicfeeling
date: May. 2nd, 2010 11:55 pm (UTC)
Link

MIKEYWAY IS LOVE
And I love this characterization of Gerard :]
I can't wait until the next one
...really... I won't wait... PUT UP THE NEXT ONE NOW
I kid, I kid kinda.
Great Job!

Reply | Thread

This is no Bridget Jones.

(no subject)

from: ox_delirium_xo
date: May. 5th, 2010 06:59 pm (UTC)
Link

I know, I know, although every time I see a photo of him these days he looks more and more like Morrisey.

NO MORE EXISTS YET! I am, however, writing it this very second.

Reply | Parent | Thread

lemon_murder

(no subject)

from: lemon_murder
date: May. 3rd, 2010 09:57 pm (UTC)
Link

Great so far!

Reply | Thread

This is no Bridget Jones.

(no subject)

from: ox_delirium_xo
date: May. 5th, 2010 06:59 pm (UTC)
Link

Thank you; also, your icon ♥.

Reply | Parent | Thread

onward_dreamily

(no subject)

from: onward_dreamily
date: May. 4th, 2010 03:37 pm (UTC)
Link

Intriguing, like the idea, can't wait for more!

Reply | Thread

This is no Bridget Jones.

(no subject)

from: ox_delirium_xo
date: May. 5th, 2010 07:00 pm (UTC)
Link

Thank you, more up soon!

Reply | Parent | Thread

freaky4frankie

(no subject)

from: freaky4frankie
date: Aug. 5th, 2010 07:57 pm (UTC)
Link

i love this and how gerard is acting i do kinda feel sorry for him aswell it's kinda sad but...


i still really wanna know how it ends i just got to lol

Reply | Thread