Skin and Bones

I slowly open my eyes. The first thing I feel is a weight on my hip. I look over my shoulder and see Gerard’s soft face – his eyes closed.
My body warms.
I can tell it’s early. The air in the room is stuffy from three guys hanging out for hours, but there must be a crack in a window somewhere, ‘cause I can smell the moistness of the morning dew. It’s refreshing. It wakes me up.
My taste buds and nose wake up quickly and my face contorts in disgust.
I slowly start sliding out of Gerard’s hold, but he quickly groans. I look over my shoulder.
He opens on eye and looks up at me. Then he smiles – half his face hidden in the sheets.

“Where’re you going?” He softly begins to stroke my hip. For once, he’s not touching a bruise.
I turn my face away from him so he won’t smell my incredibly bad breath.

“To brush my teeth.” When I look back at him, his face has fallen. He looks saddened – like someone just kicked his puppy.

“Okay,” he whispers softly and lets go of my hip. He breaks our eye-contact.
Why is he so sad all of the sudden? Is it because I threw up? He probably thinks I’m sick. I’ll just say it’s the flu. Or an infection of some sort.

I get up and walk upstairs. I sneak into Mikey’s room – careful not to wake the wank-monster.

I sneak back out and go to the bathroom. I brush my teeth quickly, but then hesitate a bit before I place my toothbrush amongst the other three.

I walk back downstairs. Gerard is gone. I look around and see that his bathroom door is open – light pouring out of it. I still can’t believe he’s got his own bathroom. He’s so spoiled – much more than Mikey.
I walk over to the doorway and hear something that sound like a snore. I smile widely. He’s probably brushing his teeth in his sleep.
I take a step inside and look to my left.

My eyes widen. There, to my left, Gerard is standing – his dick in his hand. Nothing is coming out of it and it just looks…perfect. I can’t help but stare.
He’s yawning – his head thrown back and his mouth agape.
He suddenly stops yawning and leans his head back down from facing the ceiling. His eyes are still closed.
And then; he shakes.
And then; I wake the fuck up! I quickly turn around and walk back into his room. My breath returns to my lungs full-force and I feel a tug of warmth in my lower stomach. I quickly walk over to my futon, sit down and try hard not to think about Gerard’s cock.
Don’t think about Gerard’s cock. Don’t think about Gerard’s cock. Don’t think about Gerard’s perfect cock.
Oh crap!

“Hi,” Gerard says sweetly. His walks towards me.
I slam my knees together and lean forward – hiding something very obvious.
“Feeling better?” he asks as he sits down next to me and stares into my eyes. I swallow hard and nod.
He smiles shortly. He looks ahead of him, before he looks down into his lap.
“I’m really sorry about-“ he stops himself and sighs deeply.
“Ever since… Ever since I first saw you, I knew. Well, I kinda knew before. First time I figured it out was in the showers after gym. Not the best place to figure it out.” He laughs lightly, then turn serious again. He starts rubbing his hands together nervously.
“You’re the first I’ve ever been in love with. I’ve had plenty of crushes, but you’re the first that I’ve-“ He shrugs – his shoulders reaching his ears, before they fall again. He leans his elbows on his knees.
“I’ve wanted to tell my parents. I just don’t know how they’ll react.” He finally looks up at me.
I look into his eyes, then at his mouth, then at his TV and then back into his eyes.
I nod.

“I understand,” I say – truthfully. He smiles sadly.

“I’m so sorry. For everything I’ve done to you.” He sighs and looks down at his hands. He shakes his head.
“For-“ He swallows hard as he looks up and straight ahead. His eyes glisten in the light from the bathroom. His breath hitches in his throat.
“I gave you bulimia.” My eyes widen.

“Wh-what?” My own breath hitches.
His head snaps towards me and he stares at me through his tear-filled eyes.

“You always throw up.” My mind is panicking, but my conscious can’t seem to pick up any of the thoughts rushing through my head.
“I called you fat and you started throwing up.” He sniffles.
“I made you sick.” He looks away – down. He starts picking at his nails – a clicking sound filling the room.

I blink rapidly – trying to figure out what to say or do – but the annoying clicking keeps breaking my concentration.

Suddenly – without even thinking about doing it – I reach out and grab a hold of his hands. The clicking stops.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers. Then he slowly and softly wraps his hands around mine.
I close my eyes and suddenly everything stops. I don’t know what happens, but immediately my mind comes to a sudden stop and gives me one, clear conclusion; tell him the truth.

“I’m not bulimic,” I whisper. His hands stop moving and I can feel his eyes on me. I keep mine closed.
“I have anorexia.” My voice cracks four times in that one, single, simple sentence.
I take in a deep breath before I open my eyes and meet his glistening, gorgeous, multi-colored eyes. It fascinates me how they always change colors. I’ve noticed that they’re more green than anything in the sunlight, but here, in the dark, they’re a deep brown – almost black.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers – his voice filled with sorrow and regret.
I smile softly.
I place a soft hand on his jaw and rub his cheek gently.

“I forgive you. For everything.” I feel his shiver in my arms. I smile wider.
Gerard suddenly lets go of me and stands up.

“Come on,” he says and nudges his head to his side.
“The futon sucks.” He holds a hand out towards me. I grin questionably, but takes his hand and let him pull me up and over to his bigger, softer bed.
He gets under the covers and tugs at my hand. I giggle, before I crawl under his covers.

I lie on my side and look at Gerard. He’s staring back – a soft, loving, caring look in his eyes. We smile softly at each other for a few minutes, before Gerard scoots closer to me and lays his hand on my hip. He rubs his thumb over my hipbone – again. I feel his toes tickle against mine.
I giggle.
He just smiles softly.

When he stops tickling my toes, I stop giggling. And then, he leans forwards and connects our lips.
And then, his fucking alarm clock goes off.