They Outlawed Love So We Do It In The Dark
Santa Ain’t Coming To This Town (But We’ll Manage)
“And do you know what I’m going to do next? I’m going to get hold of a real woman’s frock from somewhere and wear it instead of these bloody trousers. I’ll wear silk stockings and high-heeled shoes! In this room I’m going to be a woman, not a Party comrade.”
– Julia, Part II: Chapter IV, 1984
Christmas is coming. Gerard wouldn’t have known this if he hadn’t gone for a stroll in the prole neighbourhood to visit Frank. It’s the coloured neon lights strung high in the fronts of stores and buildings, and the little Christmas trees draped in tinsel that inform him of the seasonal festival. Back in his own neighbourhood, everything is the same – the only added feature is the snow that keeps piling up. The Party doesn’t promote any kind of festival or holiday, unless it’s related to the Party itself.
Had Gerard not met Frank, he probably would’ve spent the rest of his winters just hating the weather too.
And it’s just the same as any other year. Gerard gives Frank his present – a quilt, as Gerard had promised himself (Frank had only just recovered from his flu and it wouldn't do to have him go through that again), and a curious invention called the ‘snow globe’, which he had found in the very same antique shop he bought his journal. When Frank so much as mentions reciprocating by giving Gerard a present of his, Gerard tries to make Frank take it back, all “you shouldn’t spend any money on me”. Except, of course, Gerard’s protests are never a match for Frank’s insistence.
“It wasn’t particularly costly, if that’s what you’re worried about. Just, turn that way, face the wall, and I’ll set it up. It’s meant to be a surprise.” Speaking, Frank holds Gerard by the shoulders and steers him over to the entrance of the flat. “Don’t look now. I’ll just be a minute.”
“Okay…” The doubt shows in his voice, but Gerard stays put.
After some shuffling around and a few soft thumps, Frank calls, “You can turn around now.” Gerard complies, but what greets his sight is – not something he would have anticipated in a million years.
Frank has somehow donned a simple red evening gown, fitted and elegant. A cut in the dress all the way up to the thighs breaks the conservative appearance. Through the cut, Gerard can see hints of silk stockings and a pair of glossy black high-heels. Frank accessorises with a pair of white gloves that rolls up to his elbows, as well as a small pendant that hangs from his neck and rests on his chest. His raised, no longer flat chest. Frank’s worn something underneath to give the illusion of a pair of breasts. But what really catches Gerard’s attention is Frank’s face. His already pale face is now coated with a thin layer of powder – both cheeks are slightly rouged, and his lips are a complimenting deep red. His eyes are lined with black, the lids covered in a slight shade of aubergine, and the lashes accentuated. The curled, dark hair completes the look – Frank’s done something to his hair so that they’re smooth and shiny. The luscious curls fall onto his shoulders, and the tips trail down towards his chest.
Frank looks ravishing – kind of like he stepped straight out of the decadent twenties, as Gerard’s learnt from textbooks. Frank is beautiful, and he looks completely out of place in his small, drab flat.
“Ta da!” Frank says with a nervous chuckle as Gerard continues to stare, dumbfounded. He’s still mostly in shock, and his expression is, to Frank, unfathomable. Frank’s smile starts to drop; he’s afraid that Gerard doesn’t like his surprise at all. “Gerard?” He asks, voice timid, and Gerard breaks free of his trance. He steps forward slowly, careful, as if Frank’s an illusion he might break. “Frank… I…” He reaches out a hand, but stops it mid-raise, just letting it hang in the air. He tries speaking again, tone still as hushed and reverent, “I just… Frank – Frank, you are absolutely stunning.”
Frank lowers his eyes to the ground, suddenly self-conscious. “Yeah?” He says with a shy grin, and Gerard nods.
“You are.” Gerard takes a few more steps to close the gap, and he catches a whiff of something akin to the scent of roses, but with added artificiality. Nevertheless, it’s starting to go to his head. Abruptly, he snakes an arm around Frank’s now defined waist to pull him close, and where Frank’s soft warm back should be, Gerard’s hands meets something hard and rigid. “That’s the corset,” Frank comments quietly, and Gerard looks thoroughly puzzled. “If you want I can show you…” Frank adds, voice alluring.
“Is that an attempt at getting me in bed?” Gerard teases, and Frank smirks as he answers, bold and shameless, “Yup. Is it working?”
Gerard just grins. He indulges Frank and, tucking a loose lock of hair behind Frank’s ear, leans in to taste the red on Frank’s lips. It’s waxy, plastic and just a tad sweet, but the knowledge of it, that Frank is wearing it, is utterly intoxicating. “Just gorgeous,” Gerard breathes against Frank’s lips, and he can hear it when Frank’s breath catches.
He kisses Frank again, all his inhibitions flying out of the window, and for a long moment all he knows are lips, teeth and tongues. Gerard thinks he hears a moan – whether it is his or Frank’s, he isn’t sure. When he comes up for air, Frank is panting, and before he knows it, Gerard is walking them towards the bed. Frank stumbles in his heels, still quite unaccustomed to the added height; he tumbles back onto the mattress once it meets the back of his knees. He giggles as he falls, giddy and a bit dazed. Gerard smiles as he crawls onto the bed, hovering with his arms bracketing both sides of Frank’s body. He commits the sight before him to his memory – Frank’s flushed, red cheeks, his dark, mussed-up tresses, his slightly smeared lipstick, his glazed eyes, and his gown, a dash of red against the faded sheets – and dives down for another kiss.
“Did you know women in the Party don’t wear dresses, ever?” Gerard says. They’re lying in the bed, naked and still tangled together. Gerard can’t tell where his calves end and where Frank’s thighs start, and the thought alone gives him a thrill. “Most of them probably haven’t even seen a dress in their entire lifetime.”
Frank makes a noise of enquiry. “Wow. What do they wear then? Just pants?”
“Yeah. Just pants,” Gerard agrees. “It’s a rule of the Party, I guess. They want everybody to feel equal, so we all wear the same set of uniforms. There are only two kinds of clothes: suits for working in the office, and unisex overalls for those who are involved in physical work. You’ve seen the ugly suit, obviously.” Gerard gestures at his clothes, which are strewn across the floor, and makes a face.
“It must be so boring. Don’t get me wrong, I know it’s not the case with all women, but girls are supposed to want to look pretty, right? How can they stand wearing shapeless suits for the rest of their lives?” Frank says, shaking his head in disbelief.
“I know. I guess it helps with the whole ‘no sex’ thing. The first step you want to do when you’re trying to kill the sex instinct is to get rid of the reason for arousal, right? So we don’t have pretty women.” Gerard shrugs. “I guess that’s why I reacted the way I did when I saw you in that dress. And you are very pretty,” Gerard adds with a cheeky smile. Frank beams. “But anyway, that’s just the sex. I have no idea how they’ve managed to get rid of the primitive emotions, you know, like love, empathy, and stuff, but they’ve done it. Probably it’s to do with the top-notch propaganda they’ve got these days…” He trails off, and the silence drags on for a quite a bit as both men are lost in their thoughts.
“I’m really glad you’re not affected by any of it,” Frank admits, finally breaking the silence. “I’d fall in love with your pretty face only to find out you’re just like the rest of those robots.”
Gerard laughs, amused but humourless. “You shouldn’t be glad. You know they also arrest people for being able to love? It’s thoughtcrime, in itself.” Gerard says with a shake of his head, his voice sad. “I am doomed, now. They’re bound to find out someday, and then they’ll take me away. Even without knowing that I love you, they can still shoot me for committing sexcrime. Because it’s pretty obvious I’m not sleeping with you to ‘reproduce for the Party’,” Gerard says with airquotes, his voice dripping with disgust and sarcasm. “They’ll arrest me, and you wouldn’t see me ever again. Really, you shouldn’t have fallen in love with me.” Gerard’s voice drops into a melancholic whisper. He reaches out a finger to trace Frank’s jawline, suddenly desperate. Like they’re going to burst into the room any moment, and he’s trying to memorise every dip and bump on Frank’s body before that happens.
Frank frowns and grabs Gerard’s hand. “Shut up. It hasn’t happened yet; don’t be so pessimistic. Just be careful, as you always have been. Nothing’s gone wrong so far, right? So stop worrying.” Speaking, he flips Gerard onto his back and kisses him deep and slow, trying to distract Gerard. Trying to distract both their minds from the subject.
Outside, the snow continues to fall, and Gerard finds himself wondering how many other Party members there are out there that are just like him, all trying to make the best of their days before the Thought Police figures them out. It doesn’t matter though; they’ll catch them all, one by one, and then they’ll put them all into the Ministry of Love, where they all wait for their deaths. And nobody will remember Gerard ever existed, maybe except for Frank. He’ll be vaporised, just like the countless others that have disappeared without a trace in the past. He’ll be an unperson, just like his parents. Just like Mikey.
– Julia, Part II: Chapter IV, 1984
Christmas is coming. Gerard wouldn’t have known this if he hadn’t gone for a stroll in the prole neighbourhood to visit Frank. It’s the coloured neon lights strung high in the fronts of stores and buildings, and the little Christmas trees draped in tinsel that inform him of the seasonal festival. Back in his own neighbourhood, everything is the same – the only added feature is the snow that keeps piling up. The Party doesn’t promote any kind of festival or holiday, unless it’s related to the Party itself.
Had Gerard not met Frank, he probably would’ve spent the rest of his winters just hating the weather too.
And it’s just the same as any other year. Gerard gives Frank his present – a quilt, as Gerard had promised himself (Frank had only just recovered from his flu and it wouldn't do to have him go through that again), and a curious invention called the ‘snow globe’, which he had found in the very same antique shop he bought his journal. When Frank so much as mentions reciprocating by giving Gerard a present of his, Gerard tries to make Frank take it back, all “you shouldn’t spend any money on me”. Except, of course, Gerard’s protests are never a match for Frank’s insistence.
“It wasn’t particularly costly, if that’s what you’re worried about. Just, turn that way, face the wall, and I’ll set it up. It’s meant to be a surprise.” Speaking, Frank holds Gerard by the shoulders and steers him over to the entrance of the flat. “Don’t look now. I’ll just be a minute.”
“Okay…” The doubt shows in his voice, but Gerard stays put.
After some shuffling around and a few soft thumps, Frank calls, “You can turn around now.” Gerard complies, but what greets his sight is – not something he would have anticipated in a million years.
Frank has somehow donned a simple red evening gown, fitted and elegant. A cut in the dress all the way up to the thighs breaks the conservative appearance. Through the cut, Gerard can see hints of silk stockings and a pair of glossy black high-heels. Frank accessorises with a pair of white gloves that rolls up to his elbows, as well as a small pendant that hangs from his neck and rests on his chest. His raised, no longer flat chest. Frank’s worn something underneath to give the illusion of a pair of breasts. But what really catches Gerard’s attention is Frank’s face. His already pale face is now coated with a thin layer of powder – both cheeks are slightly rouged, and his lips are a complimenting deep red. His eyes are lined with black, the lids covered in a slight shade of aubergine, and the lashes accentuated. The curled, dark hair completes the look – Frank’s done something to his hair so that they’re smooth and shiny. The luscious curls fall onto his shoulders, and the tips trail down towards his chest.
Frank looks ravishing – kind of like he stepped straight out of the decadent twenties, as Gerard’s learnt from textbooks. Frank is beautiful, and he looks completely out of place in his small, drab flat.
“Ta da!” Frank says with a nervous chuckle as Gerard continues to stare, dumbfounded. He’s still mostly in shock, and his expression is, to Frank, unfathomable. Frank’s smile starts to drop; he’s afraid that Gerard doesn’t like his surprise at all. “Gerard?” He asks, voice timid, and Gerard breaks free of his trance. He steps forward slowly, careful, as if Frank’s an illusion he might break. “Frank… I…” He reaches out a hand, but stops it mid-raise, just letting it hang in the air. He tries speaking again, tone still as hushed and reverent, “I just… Frank – Frank, you are absolutely stunning.”
Frank lowers his eyes to the ground, suddenly self-conscious. “Yeah?” He says with a shy grin, and Gerard nods.
“You are.” Gerard takes a few more steps to close the gap, and he catches a whiff of something akin to the scent of roses, but with added artificiality. Nevertheless, it’s starting to go to his head. Abruptly, he snakes an arm around Frank’s now defined waist to pull him close, and where Frank’s soft warm back should be, Gerard’s hands meets something hard and rigid. “That’s the corset,” Frank comments quietly, and Gerard looks thoroughly puzzled. “If you want I can show you…” Frank adds, voice alluring.
“Is that an attempt at getting me in bed?” Gerard teases, and Frank smirks as he answers, bold and shameless, “Yup. Is it working?”
Gerard just grins. He indulges Frank and, tucking a loose lock of hair behind Frank’s ear, leans in to taste the red on Frank’s lips. It’s waxy, plastic and just a tad sweet, but the knowledge of it, that Frank is wearing it, is utterly intoxicating. “Just gorgeous,” Gerard breathes against Frank’s lips, and he can hear it when Frank’s breath catches.
He kisses Frank again, all his inhibitions flying out of the window, and for a long moment all he knows are lips, teeth and tongues. Gerard thinks he hears a moan – whether it is his or Frank’s, he isn’t sure. When he comes up for air, Frank is panting, and before he knows it, Gerard is walking them towards the bed. Frank stumbles in his heels, still quite unaccustomed to the added height; he tumbles back onto the mattress once it meets the back of his knees. He giggles as he falls, giddy and a bit dazed. Gerard smiles as he crawls onto the bed, hovering with his arms bracketing both sides of Frank’s body. He commits the sight before him to his memory – Frank’s flushed, red cheeks, his dark, mussed-up tresses, his slightly smeared lipstick, his glazed eyes, and his gown, a dash of red against the faded sheets – and dives down for another kiss.
“Did you know women in the Party don’t wear dresses, ever?” Gerard says. They’re lying in the bed, naked and still tangled together. Gerard can’t tell where his calves end and where Frank’s thighs start, and the thought alone gives him a thrill. “Most of them probably haven’t even seen a dress in their entire lifetime.”
Frank makes a noise of enquiry. “Wow. What do they wear then? Just pants?”
“Yeah. Just pants,” Gerard agrees. “It’s a rule of the Party, I guess. They want everybody to feel equal, so we all wear the same set of uniforms. There are only two kinds of clothes: suits for working in the office, and unisex overalls for those who are involved in physical work. You’ve seen the ugly suit, obviously.” Gerard gestures at his clothes, which are strewn across the floor, and makes a face.
“It must be so boring. Don’t get me wrong, I know it’s not the case with all women, but girls are supposed to want to look pretty, right? How can they stand wearing shapeless suits for the rest of their lives?” Frank says, shaking his head in disbelief.
“I know. I guess it helps with the whole ‘no sex’ thing. The first step you want to do when you’re trying to kill the sex instinct is to get rid of the reason for arousal, right? So we don’t have pretty women.” Gerard shrugs. “I guess that’s why I reacted the way I did when I saw you in that dress. And you are very pretty,” Gerard adds with a cheeky smile. Frank beams. “But anyway, that’s just the sex. I have no idea how they’ve managed to get rid of the primitive emotions, you know, like love, empathy, and stuff, but they’ve done it. Probably it’s to do with the top-notch propaganda they’ve got these days…” He trails off, and the silence drags on for a quite a bit as both men are lost in their thoughts.
“I’m really glad you’re not affected by any of it,” Frank admits, finally breaking the silence. “I’d fall in love with your pretty face only to find out you’re just like the rest of those robots.”
Gerard laughs, amused but humourless. “You shouldn’t be glad. You know they also arrest people for being able to love? It’s thoughtcrime, in itself.” Gerard says with a shake of his head, his voice sad. “I am doomed, now. They’re bound to find out someday, and then they’ll take me away. Even without knowing that I love you, they can still shoot me for committing sexcrime. Because it’s pretty obvious I’m not sleeping with you to ‘reproduce for the Party’,” Gerard says with airquotes, his voice dripping with disgust and sarcasm. “They’ll arrest me, and you wouldn’t see me ever again. Really, you shouldn’t have fallen in love with me.” Gerard’s voice drops into a melancholic whisper. He reaches out a finger to trace Frank’s jawline, suddenly desperate. Like they’re going to burst into the room any moment, and he’s trying to memorise every dip and bump on Frank’s body before that happens.
Frank frowns and grabs Gerard’s hand. “Shut up. It hasn’t happened yet; don’t be so pessimistic. Just be careful, as you always have been. Nothing’s gone wrong so far, right? So stop worrying.” Speaking, he flips Gerard onto his back and kisses him deep and slow, trying to distract Gerard. Trying to distract both their minds from the subject.
Outside, the snow continues to fall, and Gerard finds himself wondering how many other Party members there are out there that are just like him, all trying to make the best of their days before the Thought Police figures them out. It doesn’t matter though; they’ll catch them all, one by one, and then they’ll put them all into the Ministry of Love, where they all wait for their deaths. And nobody will remember Gerard ever existed, maybe except for Frank. He’ll be vaporised, just like the countless others that have disappeared without a trace in the past. He’ll be an unperson, just like his parents. Just like Mikey.
@fiftyshadesofmrway
thanks for reading and leaving feedback ^_^ much appreciated :)
4/13/14