Inky hands

I watch the clock tick slowly on the plain, white wall, following the hands as they move closer and closer to 4 O'clock. The books that line the library wall that were once comforting, now loom above me like they're taunting me.
"He won't come," they say, "he'll never show."
I sink deeper into my beanbag and sigh. How long now? Suddenly, from the other side of the room, I hear a girl cry out, and a crash.
"Hey!"
"Uh, sorry..."
I stand up to go see what the commotions all about. There's Gerard, standing next to a scattered pile of books, under which is a laptop.
"Gerard, what the hell?" I ask, running towards him.
"I'm not really good with libraries. I couldn't decide which books might help so I just grabbed as many a I could. Then I dropped them all over this girl. And her laptop."
That's when I notice her. Jamia, with a face like thunder.
"Frank, do you know this guy?" She asks, pissed off.
"Yeah, we're doing a project together..."
"Right. A project." She winks, picks up her laptop, and leaves grinning, her anger completely erased.
"What the fuck?" Gerard's eyes follow her out of the door, bemused.
"My ex. Very intuitive." He smiles at me. "You, uh, wanna follow me?"
"Sure." I lead him towards the secluded corner of the library that I was sitting in, full of beanbags but completely empty of people. "Cosy." He says, flopping into a bright green one.
"So what books did you get?" I ask breaking the awkward silence.
"Aw shit, I left them!"
"Naw don't worry dude, I've got my laptop." In my second home, I'm finally starting to feel like I have some control. "So, what era should we start in?"
"Dunno, 19th century?"
"Good idea! Did you know in like the 1950s girls were thought to be asexual so there were like a million lesbians living together and no one even cared, even though everyone cared about gay guys?"
"I don't see how that's relevant to the 1800s."
"No, I mean, maybe we could put that in."
"Yeah. Why don't you google some facts about then though."
"Uh, yeah." I pull out my laptop and begin to type, when he interrupts my train of thought by completely changing the topic.
"Why'd you break up then?" Shit.
"Who?" I ask, stalling.
"You and that girl?"
"Jamia?"
"Yeah."
"Uh, she was, I, uh..." He smirks. "No, I mean, we just-" suddenly his lips are on mine, taking me by complete surprise. I pull away in shock.
"Gerard, what?" He stares me in the eye, not even put off. Something about his face, his messed up hair, his untucked blazer, makes me give in. "Jesus, this is a mistake." I breathe, pulling him in by the collar go his crumpled shirt. I close my eyes, and our lips collide. They're so soft. He slips his tongue between them, and I feel it exploring every part of my mouth. I kiss him back, passionately, sucking softly on his lower lip. He starts to nibble on mine, but I move my lips and brush them against his neck, pecking little kisses all over his defined jaw. Suddenly,he pushes me up against a wall, kissing me hard. I grab his loose tie and meet his lips again, his tongue deep in my mouth. I moan. I can feel a growing bulge in both our pants and he reaches for my zipper, but stops. We pull away, look into each other's eyes, and burst into laughter, remembering that we're in a library.
"Well this is kinda awkward," he giggles.
"So, the assignment then?" We settle back down into our bean bags, me with a smile stuck on my face like toilet paper on my shoe, reminding me what a scumbag I am.
"Shit!" Gerard exclaims, taking me by surprise.
"What?"
"I was meant to be driving Mikey home today. I have to pick him up in..." He looks up at the clock, "Shit! I should have been there five minutes ago!"
"M-?"
"Come with me?" He asks, offering his hand.
"Yeah, okay." I don't take his hand though. "You know, we shouldn't tell people about us."
"Why, you ashamed?"
"No, I just-"
"You don't wanna be called a faggot."
"Yeah..."
"That's okay, we can be secretive... It's exciting. Kinky." I laugh as we leave the library, our hands tucked in our pockets and our eyes on each other.
His car isn't much to look at: green, rusty, blocky, but he does have a car. That's pretty cool.
"Hop in," he says opening the passenger seat door. "You drive?"
"Uh, no. I meant to learn but my anxiety got in the way."
"I know how it is..." He says quietly.
"W- what? You have anxiety?" Gerard? Confident and flirty as fuck?
"No, not anxiety." He rolls up the sleeve of his preppy school blazer. "Depression." Lines and lines of scars cover his forearm like a child's scribbles, jagged, wonky, both horizontal and vertical, some cuts more recent than others.
"Jesus..." I whisper. "Did you try to-"
"Twice. Pills the first time. I got in a coma, my parents didn't do much, they thought it was an accident. The second time I tried to cut my self. This one here." He points to the longest scar. "Didn't work. My parents were on vacation but Mikey, my brother, he noticed and he bandaged me up, tight."
"God, Gerard, don't do that!" I yell.
"I think it's kind of beautiful. Beads of blood and scars that remind me of every emotion..."
"No, dude! Don't romanticise it. It's not beautiful, it's pain. Pain is bad. I don't want you hurting." I can't believe him.
"Thanks, but..."
"No, Gerard! You stop right now." He laughs, and starts the car.

/// I can't believe people are actually reading this! Aaah! Thank youssss! This is another short chapter because I kinda wanted to update tonight, but I PROMISE the next chapter is gonna be longer (but you'll have to wait a bit probably) There'll be lotsa smut in the future of this fanfic, so... comment: who do you think tops? ///

Notes