Prom Fever

My immediate guess of Gerard’s whereabouts is less of a guess and more of a certified guarantee. He’s not one to fall upon distress often, but in those few times in his life (like when his grandmother died, for instance), he seeks consolation in the same building, contained in thick brick and stained glass windows.
The church is quiet at this time of night, as always. The main building as well as the rec area are closed off, locked because you can’t trust that you won’t be robbed in Jersey, even if you are a place of worship. While all these areas are inaccessible, the one place where you can go at any time of night is the small chapel.
It’s supposed to be reserved for those who have trouble attending church at regular hours, or for individual prayer and reflection. Unfortunately, it mostly serves as an overnight motel for squatters as well as a place to use drugs for teenagers and young adults. This little building kept open for the best intentions falls victim to the worst kind of things; even vandalism wasn’t unheard of. That was the way things seem to go in Jersey; open yourself up for any reason and you will be proved vulnerable. It’s why I, along with many of my friends and casual acquaintances, do our best to cover and repress any sort of emotion with a negative connotation. With kids at our school, those feelings are usually sadness, jealousy, and hurt. Just about anything else is okay, yes, even anger. Hell, kids are almost encouraged to be aggressive where I come from; one look into the hallways and anyone could make that deduction. You’re labeled as weak until you’re violent, and through heated shouting matches and physical outbursts all these kids are striving for the same thing, proof that they are not inferior. I don’t bother with it, but a lot of kids will.
Breath hot and gurgling in my throat, I wander towards the chapel. I’m still struggling to catch my breath, feeling nauseous almost from how hard I’d ran. I try to collect myself a bit, lengthening my breaths as I press an ear to the door to listen.
I can’t hear anyone in there, but if Gerard is praying there, he’s doing it quietly for sure. Taking a final deep inhale, I put my weight against the door, opening it with a grating creak of the rusted hinges.
Sure enough, I see a dark mop of hair bowed forward among the few rows of empty pews. He must not hear me. He gets really focused when he’s praying or even thinking; he’s always been like that. I clear my throat loudly, knocking a fist on a wooden pew a few quick times.
Gerard jumps, turning in his seat to face me. “Oh, you scared the biscuits out of me.” His eyes wide, he gives a rasp chuckle.
I giggle a little, nodding my head. “So, prom, huh? You and Lyn-Z excited?”
“Actually, we’re not going anymore,” Gerard confides. “She broke up with me, I guess. Says that there’s someone else.” Lowering his eyes, he continues, “And she told me that it was after we’d been together but…” he turns his back to me, finishing, “I’m so sure that he was already there, that he was always better.”
“Gosh, Gerard, I’m so sorry,” I tell softly. “Is that why you…”
Gerard nods vehemently. “Yeah, I was kinda in a bad place after she told me so I came here.” He gazes around the disheveled, tiny room dreamily, confessing, “I thought I’d come here. It always makes me feel better.”
I smile, moving towards his pew. I sit next to him heavily, setting my hands on my knees. “I’m real sorry, man. Not just about this, but about everything else.”
“I’m sorry, too,” Gerard admits. “That was all so stupid.”
“Mikey sent me here,” I inform. “He was worried.”
Gerard shrugs. “I figured he would be but… I didn’t want him to come here. I just wanted to be alone.”
Taking that as a hint, I stand. “In that case, maybe I should go.”
Just as I turn to leave, I feel a cool hand wrap around my wrist. It’s Gerard, looking at me with those pleading eyes. “Don’t go. I’m glad you’re here.”
I settle back down next to him, easing myself against the backrest. “I’m glad I’m here, too.”
We grin at each other for a moment, Gerard’s eyes twinkling. I gradually lean in, bringing my jaw towards his. I kiss him once, gently on the lips. I break it as gracefully as I can, leaving his lips pouted and reaching.
I ask him, “Still in the mood for prom?”
Gerard laughs meekly, blushing slightly as he bobs his head. Tucking a strand of hair behind his ear, he answers, “Yeah, that’d be great.”
Bringing my hand under his chin, I lift his head, guiding his lips towards mine. As we kiss, I snake a hand around his back and down the seat of his jeans, making him smirk against my lips.
He brings a hand to my shoulder, coaxing me down, lying on the pew with him hovering over me. He dips down to plant some grazing kisses against my neck. I grip onto his ass, making him give a breathy chuckle against my collarbone. “Are we really doing this in a church?”
“Well,” I begin, trying to talk coherently with Gerard sucking on my neck. “This is a chapel, not the actual church.” I peer around the walls of the chapel, adding, “Besides, worse has gone on in here.”
“Good enough for me,” Gerard mutters, tugging down the collar of my shirt to expose some chest to nibble on.
I feel myself start to go hard, and I reach down to palm myself through the rough fabric of my pants. Gerard sees this and gives a devilish smile, tugging down my fly. He works his hand into the opening, grasping around for the slot in my underwear.
Just then, the glitzing music of David Bowie soars to the rafters. Gerard, turning red with embarrassment scrambles off of me, digging into his front pocket. “Shit, my phone.” He answers, starting, “Mikey, hey.” Gerard withdraws his hand from my pants, threading it through my hair instead. “Yeah, I’m fine.” He looks up, appearing to be listening to whatever it is that Mikey’s saying. It best be damn urgent, seeing as it spoiled the only action I’ve ever had in my life. “Sorry, I just wanted to be alone for a while. I’ll let you know next time, okay?” Gerard rolls his eyes, insisting, “I’m in the middle of something right now, Mikes.” He bites his lip, his eyes suddenly shooting open. He zips my pants back up, standing and grabbing my hand. He drags me out of there, grumbling, “Well, shit, if you’re going to tell Mom.”
Gerard gets in his car, gesturing for me to join him. “How’d you get here, Frank? Did someone drop you off?”
I shake my head. “No.”
Gerard giggles, “Well, how the heck did you get here, then?” He puts his keys in the ignition, fiddling with the radio and heater.
“Ran.”
Gerard stops, looking over at me. “You did that for me?”
I shrug. “It was nothing.”
Gerard just beams at me once more before leaving the parking lot, driving us both home.

Notes

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