Skin and Bones

We didn’t buy the pants. Gerard found another pair that were a bit looser and weren’t denim, and I said okay. He also got me a few t-shirts and a jacket. I told him not to, but there was no stopping him.

We walk into the food court and I look around at all the stores. The smell of fried food is heavy. It feels as if the smell flows down my windpipe, but it never reaches my lungs. I can feel it settling on the walls of my throat as fat.
I close my nose and breathe through my mouth.

Gerard and I follow the others as they walk to KFC and get in line. They all look up at the menu, but I just look down at the happy man on the side of the counter. He’s happy because he’s killed thousands of chickens and made a business out of it. It doesn’t matter how you get the dough, just get it.

I suddenly feel Gerard’s breath in my ear.

“I’ll order fries for us to share. Just eat one whenever I do, ‘kay?” I nod and Gerard kisses the top of my head, before he turns back and follows the line as it moves forwards.

Out the corner of my eye, I can see the clerk behind the counter glare at us. I think Gerard’s seen her too, because he lets go of my hand and instead wraps his arm around me confidently and pulls me closer.
I don’t know where I find the courage – or even the need – to do it, but I wrap my arms around Gerard’s waist and hug him tightly.
The clerk looks away in disgust.
I smile.

-----

Gerard’s holding my hand tightly underneath the table. I think we subconsciously agreed not to be all lovey-dovey in front of the other three. It’d be like boasting about your happiness – like a woman flashing her engagement ring in a cat-lady’s face.
It’s annoying.

But still, I can’t help but sometimes kiss Gerard’s cheek. He just looks too cute sometimes. Like right now, he’s got a bit of tomato sauce far up on his cheek. I know his burger is kinda big, but the fact that he can be so sloppy to get sauce all the way up on the middle of his cheek is beyond cute.
I kiss it away.
Gerard giggles.

The salty, slightly sour taste sticks to my tongue, and I gulp down some water to get rid of it. When I put the glass down, I can feel the sauce float down my throat with the water. It scratches.
I quickly drink some more to get rid of it. I close my eyes to focus on swallowing. I have to fight myself not to cry.

When my glass is empty, so is my throat. I inwardly breathe a sigh of relief and open my eyes to return to the real world around me.

“It’s bullshit. No doubt about it,” Bob says before he leans harshly back in his chair and folds his arms. He’s frowning.

“Oh, come on. It’s not that bad,” Mikey says and pats Bob’s shoulder, who only shrugs away and rolls his eyes.

“Yeah,” Gerard adds.
“Maybe they’d make a collaboration out of it. Join forces to produce a completely new show.” Bob looks disgusted.
“Bugs Bunny could be Superman. And Daffy would be Batman.” Bob rolls his eyes again while Mikey is struggling not to giggle.
“And Granny would be Wonder Woman!” Mikey breaks down. A loud initial laugh escapes his mouth and for a full 5 minutes he writhers in his chair as he holds onto his stomach. He tries to speak once or twice, but all it comes out as is a few incomprehensible words followed by a deafening laughter.

I smile widely at Mikey, but I’m brought out of my bemused state of mind when I spot Gerard pick up a French fry. I quickly reach over and get one as well.
Gerard squeezes my hand softly underneath the table and gently rubs his thumb over my knuckles as I take small bites from the long fry. It looks never-ending, but deep down I know it’s just a fry. I just need to convince myself of that.