“Now we're lost somewhere in outer space,
In a hotel room where demons play,
They run around beneath our feet,
We roll around beneath these sheets...”
-Coming Down, Halsey

---

"Finally, you're acting like a civilized adult," I say as Gerard enters into my house and promptly takes a seat at the island in my kitchen.

"You know what? Shut up," Gerard says, giving me one of his ever-present smiles. "I've been coming in your house through the door for three years, you can stop reminding me of what I used to do when I was 18."

I sit down next to him and sigh dramatically, rolling my eyes up into my head. "Fine," I grumble but Gerard snickers, despite my obvious body language.

"Okay, so what movie tonight?" I ask, getting up and crossing over to my cabinet in search of microwave popcorn. Every Friday night since the beginning of the new semester, Gerard has come over to my house and we've watched a new movie every week. "Some nerdy shit from 42 years ago, I imagine," I mumble, crouching to reach the floor-level cabinets, still in search of the popcorn. C'mon, Ashley, think: where did you put the box last Friday?

"Actually, we're not gonna watch a movie tonight," Gerard says, which causes me to shoot up from my place and, in the act, slam my head against the cabinet door.

"Well, what're we doing?" I ask, standing up more carefully, rubbing the small knot underneath my dark brown hair.
"I need to take a few pictures for my final project," he tells me, tugging on the camera hanging around his neck. That camera had followed us everywhere— to every inch of Battery City— ever since Gerard had found it in a secondhand shop when we were 15. It's seen me more than anyone in its lifetime; Gerard thought that I was perfect model and muse. I like getting my picture taken, though, so it's not much of a problem for me.

"That's fine," I say. "What time do we need to head out?"
"In maybe 10 minutes," Gerard says, peeking out the window. "It's supposed to be a full moon tonight and I need to get some pictures outside..."

"Do you have a certain outfit?" I ask. Sometimes, he'll give me something that he found at— surprise, surprise— a secondhand shop to wear for the pictures. Gerard and I buy practically everything at secondhand shops, but it's really the only thing either of us can afford, not being employed.
"I do," he says. "It's in here." He pats the messenger bag next to his feet and I notice that it's bulging slightly with the contents. He quickly pulls out a bundle of black and white cloth and slides then across the counter to me.

"I'll be right back," I say, taking up the clothes and escaping to my bedroom. I quickly change out of the grotty red t-shirt and fraying jeans into the black skinny jeans and black and white striped flowing v-neck tank top.

"You look nice," Gerard says when I come back in. He pulls out another bundle of fabric, this one black leather. He gets up from his place and drapes it around my shoulders, not wanting my arms to go through the holes. Just by the smell, I can tell that the leather jacket is Gerard's: hazelnuts and coffee and cigarettes. The leather is worn and cracked, and I smile in spite of myself. "Now you look nicer."

"I have no shoes," I point out.

"Go get those army boots you found a few weeks ago,"
Gerard tells me after a second of thought. "Then, we gotta go before curfew bites our asses."

---

"Here we are!" Gerard cries, stopping in his tracks. Before we started off on our small journey, Gerard assured me that the location he had chosen was in walking distance from my house, and that the early Novemebr chill wouldn't freeze our fingers stiff. Despite this last promise, Gerard had kept my hands cupped in his, blowing his warm breath on them every so often.

Our location is a motel about 20 minutes away from my block. Everybody calls it The Pink Motel, due to the bubblegum color that the exterior is painted. I'm sure that The Pink Motel had a legitimate name at some point or another but, as of November 14, 2018, the only thing on the sign in a blinking neon 'no vacancy' sign. "The Pink Motel?" I ask dubiously, giving Gerard a look.

"I've got a reservation," he says. Before I can explain that, no, the reservation isn't the part that I'm worried about, he pushes open the glass doors open and sweeps me inside with him.

"Hi," he says, approaching the desk. The lady behind it looks at Gerard with hungry eyes before noticing me and how close to Gerard I'm standing. "Umm... I have a reservation for Way."

The woman pushes her dark brown hair behind her shoulder and flicked through a large registry, trailing her finger down the page until she got to the reservation. "Room 93," she tells us and hands us a plastic keycard the same color as the outside of the building. "Thank you and have a pleasant evening."

Notes

Who got that Hasley reference I threw into the end there? You get a prize if you guess right...
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stay lovely :3