‹ Prequel: Sick and Sain
Sick Boy
Chapter 5
Having survived Gerard’s isolated shower, Ryan found himself driving too fast on the freeway. He liked it. Ry, you just like the adrenaline. Well yeah, but maybe you like knowing that you’re doing something wrong—now don’t you? You like feeling bad and dangerous and all of the above. Because you’re not. You’re tame, easy. Sick. You pop your pills like they’re ice cream cones and hope to god they’re the right ones. Oh don’t even. Don’t start. Stop trying to be such a little…Ryan Ross. Just be Ryan for once? Spare us? Please. We all know you’re doing fine. You’re stable, in love and on top of the charts. So just shut up. Please.
“Where do you wanna go?” Gerard asked when he had confirmed he had survived Ryan’s wild ride. Check your vitals signs—no you’re still alive.
“I dunno,” Ryan shrugged, climbing out of the car and slamming the door maybe a bit too hard, “What do you wanna do?”
“Ry—I seriously don’t care. Plus, I mean—you know this fucking place better than me.”
Ryan nodded, biting his lip as he took Gerard’s hand. It was warm. And soft. Chipping black nail polish left on a couple nails, his fingers almost permanently marked with pens and pencil dots—not weak enough to be fooled into coming off as a result of one shower. Ryan felt warm inside—like blushing without the color. So nice. So sweet. So, so sweet. Welcome back Ry. Remember when you felt like this everyday? When you weren’t always drunk or hung over or something? Yeah. That was pretty nice—huh.
“Hey Gee?”
“Yeah Ry?”
Ryan sighed. Their voices echoed across the parking lot—desolate. Metal shells of automobiles dotted the spaces marked in white. Fucking people. So materialistic. Sensationalistic. But that’s you, Ry. You’re the sensationalist. You know it. You are—you are—you are.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah.”
They paused as they waited for the elevator—each in their own worlds. Don’t disturb each other boys. You just might find out something you don’t want to hear about. This whole idea of perfection might get ruined. So be quiet.
“Goddamn, I’m starving,” Gerard muttered, “Can we go get food?”
“But we just ate,” Ryan pointed out. Oh Gerard. You’re too cute. Adorable. Oh shut up Ryan. You’re such a…a girl. But it’s kinda sweet isn’t it? How much you love this boy when he does nothing to deserve it half of the time. Okay Ryan admit it. He’s not perfect. No. No he’s not. But he’s damn close. Damn straight he is. Okay don’t say that. You have the worst puns in the world. But they’re kinda cute. Oh shut up Ryan. Just be quiet.
“I know,” Gerard laughed, “But I’m hungry again.”
“Fine. Wanna get a sandwich?”
“No.”
“A hamburger?”
“No.”
Ryan giggled, flirting like a little schoolgirl head over heels infatuated with a boy, “Where do you wanna go?”
At the sound of Ryan’s giggle, Gerard smiled. Not because it was so cute—although it was—but because he remembered a year before. It was that same maniacal giggle he used to giggle all the time. But for a different reasons. And looking at it now, it wasn’t so maniacal as it had seemed at the time. It was just…Ryan. And Gee. Ry and Gee.
“Gee?” Ryan whined when they emerged into the bright sunlight, “Where do you wanna go?”
Gerard slipped his sunglasses on to his nose and pulled Ryan’s down from his head to cover those big brown eyes. “I dunno…let’s go somewhere really nice.”
Ryan looked down at his red T-shirt and faded jeans, then at Gerard’s outfit—nearly mirroring his own, except in black. “Um…how nice?”
“Really nice.”
“No seriously Gee, we’ll never get in.” Ryan was skeptical.
“Bah, of course we will—we’re us!” Gerard batted this protest away and stuck his hand in Ryan’s pocket. In turn, Ryan slung his arm over Gerard’s shoulder and promptly pulled out his Sidekick.
Hey motherfucker. No more girls deodorant on tour, got it? Get your gay ass something manly this year. Goddamn that Brendon. Stupid freak. But in a good way. And he was right. Ryan totally would have forgotten to get deodorant again but—
“Hey! Put that away,” Gerard whined, snatching it out of Ryan’s hand and sticking it in his pocket.
“Gee!” Ryan squealed, “That’s mine! No! Give it back!”
Gerard shook his head happily, “Nope. Sorry, you’re dedicating today to me—remember?”
“Yeah but—Gee…” Ryan whined, looking truly pitiful.
“Bullshit, Sick Boy. You’re addicted.”
Pout Ry. It’s gotten shit for you before. Pout. Pout, Sick Boy, because you know you’re materialistic like that and you’re probably only in this relationship for the sex and the attention. Oh shut up. We went through this before. No seriously—shut the fuck up. But…you do want that damn Sidekick back. Fucker. Gee stole it! Kill Gee. Kill Gee.
“Gee—I want it!” Ryan cried. Dear god, we’ve resorted to the five year old thing again—haven’t we? Well whatever. If it works.
“George, I’m not giving you it back!”
Ryan looked horrified, and jumped back away from Gerard about three feet, “You called me George!”
“Yeah Georgie, and I’ll do it some more if you don’t stop whining.”
“Fine—Arthur.”
Gerard smirked. “Whatever George.”
“Where do you wanna go?” Gerard asked when he had confirmed he had survived Ryan’s wild ride. Check your vitals signs—no you’re still alive.
“I dunno,” Ryan shrugged, climbing out of the car and slamming the door maybe a bit too hard, “What do you wanna do?”
“Ry—I seriously don’t care. Plus, I mean—you know this fucking place better than me.”
Ryan nodded, biting his lip as he took Gerard’s hand. It was warm. And soft. Chipping black nail polish left on a couple nails, his fingers almost permanently marked with pens and pencil dots—not weak enough to be fooled into coming off as a result of one shower. Ryan felt warm inside—like blushing without the color. So nice. So sweet. So, so sweet. Welcome back Ry. Remember when you felt like this everyday? When you weren’t always drunk or hung over or something? Yeah. That was pretty nice—huh.
“Hey Gee?”
“Yeah Ry?”
Ryan sighed. Their voices echoed across the parking lot—desolate. Metal shells of automobiles dotted the spaces marked in white. Fucking people. So materialistic. Sensationalistic. But that’s you, Ry. You’re the sensationalist. You know it. You are—you are—you are.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah.”
They paused as they waited for the elevator—each in their own worlds. Don’t disturb each other boys. You just might find out something you don’t want to hear about. This whole idea of perfection might get ruined. So be quiet.
“Goddamn, I’m starving,” Gerard muttered, “Can we go get food?”
“But we just ate,” Ryan pointed out. Oh Gerard. You’re too cute. Adorable. Oh shut up Ryan. You’re such a…a girl. But it’s kinda sweet isn’t it? How much you love this boy when he does nothing to deserve it half of the time. Okay Ryan admit it. He’s not perfect. No. No he’s not. But he’s damn close. Damn straight he is. Okay don’t say that. You have the worst puns in the world. But they’re kinda cute. Oh shut up Ryan. Just be quiet.
“I know,” Gerard laughed, “But I’m hungry again.”
“Fine. Wanna get a sandwich?”
“No.”
“A hamburger?”
“No.”
Ryan giggled, flirting like a little schoolgirl head over heels infatuated with a boy, “Where do you wanna go?”
At the sound of Ryan’s giggle, Gerard smiled. Not because it was so cute—although it was—but because he remembered a year before. It was that same maniacal giggle he used to giggle all the time. But for a different reasons. And looking at it now, it wasn’t so maniacal as it had seemed at the time. It was just…Ryan. And Gee. Ry and Gee.
“Gee?” Ryan whined when they emerged into the bright sunlight, “Where do you wanna go?”
Gerard slipped his sunglasses on to his nose and pulled Ryan’s down from his head to cover those big brown eyes. “I dunno…let’s go somewhere really nice.”
Ryan looked down at his red T-shirt and faded jeans, then at Gerard’s outfit—nearly mirroring his own, except in black. “Um…how nice?”
“Really nice.”
“No seriously Gee, we’ll never get in.” Ryan was skeptical.
“Bah, of course we will—we’re us!” Gerard batted this protest away and stuck his hand in Ryan’s pocket. In turn, Ryan slung his arm over Gerard’s shoulder and promptly pulled out his Sidekick.
Hey motherfucker. No more girls deodorant on tour, got it? Get your gay ass something manly this year. Goddamn that Brendon. Stupid freak. But in a good way. And he was right. Ryan totally would have forgotten to get deodorant again but—
“Hey! Put that away,” Gerard whined, snatching it out of Ryan’s hand and sticking it in his pocket.
“Gee!” Ryan squealed, “That’s mine! No! Give it back!”
Gerard shook his head happily, “Nope. Sorry, you’re dedicating today to me—remember?”
“Yeah but—Gee…” Ryan whined, looking truly pitiful.
“Bullshit, Sick Boy. You’re addicted.”
Pout Ry. It’s gotten shit for you before. Pout. Pout, Sick Boy, because you know you’re materialistic like that and you’re probably only in this relationship for the sex and the attention. Oh shut up. We went through this before. No seriously—shut the fuck up. But…you do want that damn Sidekick back. Fucker. Gee stole it! Kill Gee. Kill Gee.
“Gee—I want it!” Ryan cried. Dear god, we’ve resorted to the five year old thing again—haven’t we? Well whatever. If it works.
“George, I’m not giving you it back!”
Ryan looked horrified, and jumped back away from Gerard about three feet, “You called me George!”
“Yeah Georgie, and I’ll do it some more if you don’t stop whining.”
“Fine—Arthur.”
Gerard smirked. “Whatever George.”