I Hope You Choke On Those Words, That Kiss, That Bottle- I Confess

Gerard is always fucking late.

His head is pretty much on fire and his skirt is way too short to be proper for work, but it doesn't really matter since he knows hot beats decent by far. His mother thinks he's going to hell, anyway, but so is she so he isn't going to sweat it. Maybe even there she'll want to iron his skirts and do his hair until he goes mad off his butt.

He's sure his bangs look horrific but given the fact he's put red lip gloss on, nobody's going to look at that particular part of his face. His hair is greasy and it looks more of a filthy blue than a jet black underneath the street lighting, but the sun has set and his butt beats all of his character flaws by at least a hundred. He’s pretty sure he’s got some paint stains on his neck, but he’s always so far up his own ass with the whole artist lifestyle that it’s more of a signature sign than an ignorable mistake. Whatever it is, he can’t be bothered- with his charisma he would probably be able to get laid even if he smelled like piss and looked like a rat run over with a lawnmower.

His Converse are all smudged from mud, dust and what seems to be some jizz from that time he accidentally stepped into his own dirty boxers while half-drunk. Ignoring it seems like the best option now, and it's not like those shoes look good even when clean. They're a dark blue anyway; nobody's going to give a shit.

He's already half-soaked since the puddles around the road are big and the traffic is going crazy. By the time he gets to the last crossroad one poor truck driver's got a 'fuck you' thrown at him, his crotch is wet and the lace is hurting his balls, but at least he's done with the eventful journey that is his walk to work.

The bar is crowded when he gets in, and the way Brendon is looking at him either means Gerard fucked Ryan Ross or that he's seriously late to work- and since Brendon cannot know about that one time in art school Gerard was high as shit and Ryan offered, he's pretty sure it's the latter. And it's not like Brendon would mind the former anyway- it's just that he'd be pissed at Gerard for not inviting him to join.

"I know," he offers, coughing slightly while sliding behind the bar and dropping his rain coat on the rack behind him.

"You look like shit," is all Brendon has to say, and Gerard nudges him with an elbow to shut him up. "Is that a bruise on your arm? Where'd you get that from?"

"Don’t know," he shrugs.

Brendon pulls him in by the hand and does a thorough survey of his face, before shoving his thumb into Gerard's mouth with a silent 'lick'. Then he wipes the excess eyeliner off of his nose and cheeks, rolling his eyes at the thankful face Gerard makes.

"I woke up in my bathtub wearing only fishnets at, like, five thirty," he sighs, "didn't have much time to gussy up."

Brendon looks down at his legs. "Are these the same fishnets?" When Gerard doesn't reply, he hums. "At least you had the decency to shave your legs."

"I-"

“Also, is that spunk on your sneakers?"

Gerard flips him off with a defeated moan and asks the chick that's just come in if she's ready to get something to drink.

*

Pete’s not home when Gerard collapses headfirst into the couch cushion, and he hopes it’ll remain that way at least until dawn. He’s hungry and he smells like cheap scotch while all he really wants is some chicken ramen and a shower, but he’s way too lazy for cleanliness and all they’ve got in the fridge is burnt mac and cheese Pete left for him before he went out.

He drags himself off of the couch and into the kitchen, throwing the plate into the microwave and downing a glass of water while he waits. His head feels like a balloon filled with iron and he suddenly gets the need to barf just because of his mood. He doesn’t dwell on it, just pops a Xanax and hopes the macaroni doesn’t taste like solid coal.

He’s already swaying a little when he swallows down the food, but when he takes his clothes off and shoves his head into the pillow, he forgets all about nausea and welcomes the pitch black of his dreams.

*

When he wakes up, it’s because someone is playing rap music in the living room. The inside of his mouth tastes awful and his ass is cold because he forgot to close the window last night, but it’s not even three PM and his eyes are open. Well, half-open since there’s crust around them and he’s still getting used to the light, but he still gleefully hates whoever is responsible for this.

His knees are wobbly while he walks across his room and kicks at some random laundry lying around the floor with his foot. His hair is all sticky and he’s at least seventy percent sure there’s both lip gloss and vomit somewhere inside it. He puts on a huge Madonna t-shirt that falls over his butt and fucks panties off completely- if he bends over and someone sees it, he’s really just doing them a favor.

Brushing teeth is a painful experience when you’re disoriented as shit, but he gets it done relatively quickly after he takes a piss. The only reason he doesn’t wash his face is because there’s glitter all over it and he looks like a goddamn star, so he just slips into the kitchen quietly nodding along to Lil Wayne or whatever the fuck else Pete is playing. The coffee machine is being a bitch again, and Gerard remembers where he got the bruise Brendon mentioned yesterday- it was from kicking the thing in exasperation on Monday when it wasn’t working.

Everyone knows Gerard doesn’t talk before caffeine and most respect that, so it’s not really a surprise when neither his brother or Pete try to make a conversation with him when he plops down onto the couch. It’s dark green and a little bit dusty, but the entire room looks like the home of a bohemian stoner so it’s not like being neat is a factor in their lives’ equation. He leans into Pete’s arm and steals the smoke from in between his lips, dismissing his scoff entirely as he’s taking a drag. Mikey doesn’t say anything, just smiles a tiny bit and focuses his eyes back on the TV screen.

After three more smokes and two espressos later, Gerard finally feels a bit less dead than your average zombie. Pete starts making remarks about him not wearing underwear and Mikey just shrieks very loudly, but Gerard doesn’t do much more than elbow his side and bite his forearm when he starts laughing.

“Disgusting,” Mikey says with a grimace as he’s staring into the curtains Gerard painted purple a few weeks ago.

“The only thing that would be more disgusting is hearing your brother fuck your best friend through the walls every night, I’m sure,” Gerard drones, and the face Mikey makes is the first sign of a win. “And I did, after all, change your diapers when you were a kid. I had to put up with your dick then, now you should return the favor and ignore mine.”

“You’re hopeless,” Mikey sighs.

“Can’t argue with that,” Gerard bites his lip and stands up to go change the music that’s playing.

*

“There’s, like, some party at Brian’s tonight,” Brendon absently says while he’s rolling his joint, “I don’t know if I-”

“We’re going,” Pete says, and looks at Gerard. Gerard just shrugs and takes a drag of his cigarette- he was planning on staying home, getting high and sleeping tonight- but it’s free booze and a potential fuck so he really doesn’t care. “But only if Gee takes a shower.”

“But I look like glitter.”

“You look like shit,” Brendon retorts. Pete gives him a fist bump and Gerard rolls his eyes, flipping them off with the hand he’s holding his cigarette in and ashing all over Pete’s stomach. That earns him a ‘fuck off with that smoke’ and a nudge in the foot, but he doesn’t really care. “Pretty shit,” Brendon considers, and Gerard smiles, “but shit nonetheless.”

Gerard purses his lips and Pete groans loudly, shoving him with his foot again. “I’ll blow you if you take a goddamn shower.”

Gerard snorts, “Your mouth was on my brother’s dick. That’s hideous.”

“Brendon will blow you, then.”

“Like hell I will!” Brendon jumps, and Pete just starts cackling so loud he’s probably going to disturb the neighbors.

“Okay, whatever, I’ll shower. But then I am allowed to walk around the house butt naked for a week and you have no right to tell me anything about it.” Gerard looks satisfied with the idea, and Pete just watches him intently for a few moments. He looks like he’s thinking and Gerard is pretty sure his mind wandered off to somewhere entirely different when he breathed out an ‘okay, fine’.

Brendon grabs his head with his hands and sighs exasperatedly. “Why do I hang out with such weirdos?”

The truth is, Gerard really doesn’t have an answer to that question.

Notes

hi. i don't know what this is. let's hope i'll find out on time.