the sound of your name could silence my demons

Gerard put on some decent clothes and gathered his things in a bag. One good thing about this job is that they were getting free cigrattes. Something about keeping them skinny and fuckable. Whatever it was, he couldn't complain.

He got a pack of cigarettes from the bar and then went outside in the backyard to smoke. He looked at the window where he saw the boy earlier. The lights were off. He knew it was weird but only staring into that boy's eyes was like therapy. Actually, it was better than therapy.
Gerard went to a lot of shrinks when he was a teenager because of his depression. His mom was the one paying his sessions, but it was hopeless. Gerard was never cooperative so all the shrinks eventually gave up on him.

Gerard continued staring at the window until someone turned on the lights and called him a creep after telling him to fuck off.

Laughing to himself for being so stupid, he threw the cigarette butt on the ground and stepped on it.

On the way home he thought about a lot of things, but mainly about the offer he was given. He hated the idea of getting fucked for money. Not that he thought it wasn't a respectable job or something.
(AN: This is my honest opinion, guys. Being a stripper, a porn star or a prostitute are jobs too. Respectable ones. If that's what you're good at and you like what you're doing, nobody's opinion should matter. You can do anything you want as long as you stay safe and avoid doing anything you don't want to. If anyone makes you do something that's out of your comfort zone you should immediately quit. Your health is really important.)

But he kept thinking about those old men. What if they had weird kinks? What if they were violent? Would his boss keep him safe? Would he get traumatised?

When he got home, in his one room apartament in a not-so-safe neighbourhood, he crashed on the bed and started crying. He rememberd every single bad decision that got him into the hell hole that is his life. Silent sobs escaping his lips, he fell asleep with one thing in mind: death.

Notes

Sorry again.
XOXOG