Gerard played with his fingers, debating on if he should do it or not. He sighed, running a hand through his poop colored hair. “Should I?” He mumbled to himself. He finally decided that yes, he would do it.
He shakily stood from his seat, his palms sweaty, and his knees weak. There was spaghetti sauce on his shirt from dinner the night before. He sighed and smiled, staring at the jar in complete awe. “Beautiful.”
He slowly slid across the kitchen in his colorful fluffy socks, and finally reached his destination: the jar.
He gasped under his breath as he laid his slim fingers on the lid, gripping it tightly. Gerard smiled seductively as he turned the lid, it squeaking a little as he popped it open. He bit his lip, inhaling the intoxicating fragrance of the bread and butter pickles.
He slowly dipped his fingers inside the jar, and grasped at a large pickle. He moaned slightly under his breath, licking his lips.
He brought the pickle to eye level, and stared at it for a good thirty seconds. “You look so beautiful tonight,” Gerard marveled, smiling at it.
“Gerard… What are you doing?” Frank asked, staring at Gerard with a confused expression.
“Nothing, nothing at all,” Gerard mumbled, quickly dropping the pickle back into the jar and tightening the lid back into place. He frowned, and quickly slid out of the room in his fluffy socks.

Notes

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