Finding Color

As we leave the coffee shop, I give Josh a small wave over my shoulder. He waggles his eyebrows, flashing me a thumbs up. I blush, shake my head at him, and allow Gerard to hold the door open for me as I exit. I can hear Josh laughing until the door closes behind us. I glance at Gerard and, noticing the shadow of a smile on his face, I silently pray that he hadn't seen Josh's suggestive behavior. To lead him on would be heart-wrenching, and though I'm definitely no stranger to taking advantage of a casual lay, I feel like Gerard and I can be real friends. I would like that, I think, to have a friendship that hasn't been ruined by sex, other than the one I have with Kit. It'll happen, I decide. At least, if I don't do anything stupid.

Turning my head, I study his walking form next to me. His hands are tucked into his coat pockets, which hunches his shoulders slightly, and his long dark hair is messy, sticking up in all directions. He looks tired, I decide, as I notice his faint dark circles, but his eyes are alight with something unidentifiable. A special kind of excitement emits from them as he studies the world around him. I've never seen anything like it before. It's something special, indigenous only to him. I hardly notice I'm staring until he asks, "Do you want to get a cab? I'll pay for one if you're cold." I blink once before turning my head to stare at the flow of traffic. The headlights in the darkness end up hurting my eyes, so I squint at Gerard again.

In all honesty, my hands are a bit numb, even tucked in my pockets, but it's not unbearable enough to waste money on. "It's only a few blocks. I'll be alright." I wiggle the feeling back into my fingertips inside my pockets for a few minutes, watching my breath dissipate in the wind tunnels created by skyscrapers. I'm suddenly reminded of how my brother and I used to pretend we were smoking as children. It was less funny we he actually started smoking in high school, but I'd decided that was none of my business.

"What do you do for a living?" Gerard asks the question suddenly, and when I turn my head, he's looking at me. I can't help but wonder if he's been staring for a long time. "I mean, I'm assuming you already know I'm an artist, but I haven't heard you talk about work at all."

His hazel eyes gaze into mine in a way that's slightly unsettling, so I begin counting my footsteps between the cracks in the sidewalk. "I file paperwork at a real-estate agency."

I can hear his face fall as he speaks. "Oh." He pauses lamely before attempting, "Do you like it there?"

I laugh bitterly, "Not at all. But I've got student loans and bills and myself." I shake my head, casting a glance sideways at him,"I don't know how you managed to find work, but..." I sigh, trailing off into silence. Work isn't exactly my favorite of all topics.

I can hear the excitement in his voice as he turns towards me, "You're an artist then?"

I shake my head, "Oh, no. I mean, I would love to be good at art, but...I studied music in college. "

Enthusiasm unbroken, he quips, "Oh, do you play?"

I smile, answering, "Violin, mostly." I feel a rush of excitement in the turn of our conversation. I don't have interest in much else. Of course, my new job lent little time to play anymore. I scowl at the thought, adding, "I went to school convinced I was studying music because I didn't want to be stuck in a job I hated. Go figure, huh?" Gerard frowns, and looks away from me. Why did I say that? The conversation had been nice. I try to think of something to bring the lightheartedness back into our discussion.

Before I can come up with anything, Gerard, once again breaks the silence. "I'd like to hear you play sometime," he says, offering me a hand to step over a particularly icy spot on the sidewalk.

I smile in response. Letting his gloved hand take my own, I hop over the ice. "Maybe."

The walk to the city's tree is short and silent after that point. Honestly, I'm not too enthusiastic about seeing the city's tree. I was at the lighting a week ago on the third, dragged there by Kit who insisted that I needed to get out of the house, and I often have to walk through Rockefeller Plaza on my way to and from work, so I've seen it frequently enough. I can't really tell if Gerard is as excited to see it as he'd said in the coffee shop, but it doesn't seem to matter. He's giving off a relaxed and content vibe that's contagious, and I find myself mirroring his faint smile as we carefully tread down the sidewalk. For once, I'm glad I've left the house.

As we turn into Rockefeller Plaza, I hear Gerard release a happy sigh. They really outdid themselves this year, I'll admit. Lining the sides of a makeshift pathway to the main, colorful evergreen are small trees decorated with strands of white lights, reminiscent of snow that hasn't been overturned and stained brown by snow plows. Actual white snow is sort of hard to come by in the city unless you go to a park, so the fake stuff is nice sometimes. In addition to that, there are colorful light-up angels, nut crackers, and sleighs. It's a pretty generic, yet grandiose display. I peek at Gerard, who's studying all of it with an approving smile, and ask, "What now?"

He gestures towards the main tree, looking slightly shocked at my lack of enthusiasm, "This is nice, don't you think?"

"I see it pretty often," I state generally. I'll most likely miss them when they've taken them down after New Year's, but for now, the tourist hotspot is a hassle on my walk to work. Despite this, I admit, "Lights are my favorite part of the season."

At this, Gerard's mouth lifts into a smile again. "Me too. They almost make up for the lack of stars."

I nod in agreement. "I miss them sometimes." I look up at the sky hopefully, unsurprised when I don't see any twinkling stars in the light-polluted sky above. I sigh. It's the one thing I hate about living in the city. At home, a clear night is lit only by moonbeams and glittering starlight, along with the occasional flash of a lighthouse and the lit bridge across the bay. The sky is completely painted with the cosmos. Here, artificial advertisements and the headlights of honking yellow cabs steal the limelight. As one could imagine, it was difficult getting used to the constant noise and flurry of lights when I first moved to the city for college. It was weeks before I got a decent night of sleep. Sometimes, I still wake up with headaches.

"Where are you from? I never thought to ask." Snapping my gaze away from the sky, my stomach churns slightly at the question, and I feel myself shivering. In my pockets, I crack my knuckles. It's strange having someone insist upon conversation for once. Kit seems to have become accustomed to my wandering thoughts, often leaving me alone for hours just to think. Gerard always wants to know what's on my mind. Of course, I've been finding myself keeping it a secret anyways.

"Rhode Island. A small town right on the water." I can feel my irritation building, as it usually does when my thoughts are interrupted for long periods of time. I'm not sure if it's gone unnoticed or not, but I try to disguise my tone anyways. He hardly knows me, after all, and there will be time for explaining later.

"That sounds nice."

"Nothing happens much," I answer, and it's true. Small seaside towns aren't very eventful, particularly in the smallest state. Though nothing bad happens, nothing good happens either. The people there kind of just... exist.

Apprehensive, Gerard retaliates, "Where I'm from, they find dead bodies in playgrounds." I look at him questioningly. He scratches the back of his head nervously, and clarifies, "Belleville. New Jersey."

After a slight pause, I mumble, "New York isn't much of an upgrade."

"No," he agrees.

He turns back towards the display, tilting his head slightly to the left. "I should be getting back home." I say this to myself mostly, to will myself back to my apartment, but he responds anyways, slightly disappointed.

"So soon?"

I turn towards him, lowering my eyes to the floor. My fingernails find their way to my mouth, and I chew on them slightly. "It's nothing personal. I told Kit that I was going for coffee and it's been awhile..." When I finally meet his gaze, I mumble, "She worries lately." His brow furrows slightly in understanding.

"I had fun," he says, rubbing his hands together, "I'd like to see you again soon."

"Kit's making me go to the group again next Monday," I respond, eyes darting between his and the sidewalk.

"No, outside of the group. Before that, maybe." He smiles, and my breath hitches in my throat slightly as he sniffles from the cold. I want to tell him I can only give him friendship. Perhaps it's my ego that demands I make my intentions explicitly clear, perhaps its my currently warped mental state. It doesn't matter. I don't respond in any way other than a nod, and he says, "I'll call you a cab."

On the way back to the apartment, I think about the stars again.

Notes

Short chapter for you to finish off the latest event in the story. I meant to write it out longer, but any other writers get in moods where they literally have to force themselves to write and they're basically spewing shit? That was me this chapter.

Anyways, This is a pretty weird first date. Then again, when did you ever read about someone with a normal life? That would be pretty boring.

For those of you who haven't seen, I've posted the first chapter of a Killjoy story recently, called, "Dancing in the Desert". I'm very excited about it, so definitely check it out, if you're so inclined.

I was thinking of writing the other guys into this story as well, possibly as frequently recurring characters. Being Gerard's brother, Mikey was always going to make a few appearances, but I'm really putting a lot of consideration with Frank and Ray. I think it could be interesting either way. What do y'all think? If enough people comment that they want them in, I may as well throw something together.

In other news, is anyone as obsessed with the new Weekend Pancake Report video as I am? I can't stop reblogging all the gifs on Tumblr. It's too funny.

--Sparrow Delanuit