We're Just Two Men As God Had Made Us
Chapter Fifty Four
-A month later-
Gerard's POV
I stood in front of the three way mirrors, watching as the tailor, Mr Smith, fussed over pinning my pants.
"But no one will see! It's only an inch longer! It can crumple up a bit!" I groaned as Mr Smith repinned up my trouser hems for the millionth time.
"Now now Mr Way, we can't have that. Mr Smith does everything and he does everything perfect! There, now doesn't that look nice?" he whisked his hands away from my trousers with a flourish and stood back to proudly admire his work. I looked critically into the mirror.
"Don't see much of a difference," I grumbled, wondering why I was standing here for that long when the difference was all but tiny.
"That's no way to talk about a good, well fitted tuxedo!" Mr Smith scolded, eyeing my lapels with a glint in his eye. "Now is it me or do those lapels look a tad bit lopsided?"
"It's you," I hurried said and rushed into the dressing room to remove the stiffling tux. I locked the door and turned around to look at myself again. I looked pretty smart. Mikey and I had settled on the attire; he'd wear a white tux while I settled for the black.
"It goes with your new hair," he had said, kissing me fondly on the lips as he dropped me off at the tailors before going to pick out the wedding dinner cutlery. He had insisted on doing that since he had much better experience in fine dining, whereas I, needless to say, had none whatsoever.
I took off the tux and made my way out into the shop, the three piece suit drapped casually over my arm. Mr Smith rushed over to me and made a big fuss in taking the suit from me.
"Ah Mr Way, when will you ever learn to hang them up? Fine suits are not meant to be tossed carelessly over one's arm!" he fussed, hanging up the suit neatly. Ever since I was young, I had to be fitted for countless shirts and pants for formal occasions, since I was growing all the time.
"Costing me a bomb, you are!" mum had exclaimed fondly, toussling my hair." I snorted dryly as I wondered what she would think if she knew what I was doing in this shop this time. Would she be toussling me hair if she knew? I thought wrly. I wondered how I was going to tell her; she had to know eventually. Mr Smith knew it; I had told him the moment I stepped it, and he was fine with it. Still, all the times that I had been here, he had insisted on calling me Mr Way.
"Well, best get going! You've been great company," I said to Mr Smith, gripping his hand warmly.
"He said yawning," Mr Smith said bashfully, flushing. He always appreciated a good compliment.
"Well actually, now that you mention it, yeah," I said, pretending to stiffle a yawn. Abandoning all gentlemanly upbring and airs, he scowled playfully and swatted my arm.
"Get going you, you're going to miss Mikey!"
"Yessir! And with that, I bustled out of the door, Mr Smith grinning after me. Heading out, I saw Mikey in the car waiting by the pavement, head banging to Bark At The Moon by Ozzy Ozborne.
"You listen to The Oz?" I asked, climbing into the passenger seat and kissing him on the lips.
"Well hello, baby," he murmured, kissing me back. "And no, the Fro left one of his CDs in the player and I thought I'd take a listen."
"Well okay, whatever turns you on," I smiled as he pulled away from the pavement.
"You do," he touched my cheek lightly, drawing a smile from me. I kissed the tips of his fingers and turned up the volume and we rocked to The Oz all the way home.
Gerard's POV
I stood in front of the three way mirrors, watching as the tailor, Mr Smith, fussed over pinning my pants.
"But no one will see! It's only an inch longer! It can crumple up a bit!" I groaned as Mr Smith repinned up my trouser hems for the millionth time.
"Now now Mr Way, we can't have that. Mr Smith does everything and he does everything perfect! There, now doesn't that look nice?" he whisked his hands away from my trousers with a flourish and stood back to proudly admire his work. I looked critically into the mirror.
"Don't see much of a difference," I grumbled, wondering why I was standing here for that long when the difference was all but tiny.
"That's no way to talk about a good, well fitted tuxedo!" Mr Smith scolded, eyeing my lapels with a glint in his eye. "Now is it me or do those lapels look a tad bit lopsided?"
"It's you," I hurried said and rushed into the dressing room to remove the stiffling tux. I locked the door and turned around to look at myself again. I looked pretty smart. Mikey and I had settled on the attire; he'd wear a white tux while I settled for the black.
"It goes with your new hair," he had said, kissing me fondly on the lips as he dropped me off at the tailors before going to pick out the wedding dinner cutlery. He had insisted on doing that since he had much better experience in fine dining, whereas I, needless to say, had none whatsoever.
I took off the tux and made my way out into the shop, the three piece suit drapped casually over my arm. Mr Smith rushed over to me and made a big fuss in taking the suit from me.
"Ah Mr Way, when will you ever learn to hang them up? Fine suits are not meant to be tossed carelessly over one's arm!" he fussed, hanging up the suit neatly. Ever since I was young, I had to be fitted for countless shirts and pants for formal occasions, since I was growing all the time.
"Costing me a bomb, you are!" mum had exclaimed fondly, toussling my hair." I snorted dryly as I wondered what she would think if she knew what I was doing in this shop this time. Would she be toussling me hair if she knew? I thought wrly. I wondered how I was going to tell her; she had to know eventually. Mr Smith knew it; I had told him the moment I stepped it, and he was fine with it. Still, all the times that I had been here, he had insisted on calling me Mr Way.
"Well, best get going! You've been great company," I said to Mr Smith, gripping his hand warmly.
"He said yawning," Mr Smith said bashfully, flushing. He always appreciated a good compliment.
"Well actually, now that you mention it, yeah," I said, pretending to stiffle a yawn. Abandoning all gentlemanly upbring and airs, he scowled playfully and swatted my arm.
"Get going you, you're going to miss Mikey!"
"Yessir! And with that, I bustled out of the door, Mr Smith grinning after me. Heading out, I saw Mikey in the car waiting by the pavement, head banging to Bark At The Moon by Ozzy Ozborne.
"You listen to The Oz?" I asked, climbing into the passenger seat and kissing him on the lips.
"Well hello, baby," he murmured, kissing me back. "And no, the Fro left one of his CDs in the player and I thought I'd take a listen."
"Well okay, whatever turns you on," I smiled as he pulled away from the pavement.
"You do," he touched my cheek lightly, drawing a smile from me. I kissed the tips of his fingers and turned up the volume and we rocked to The Oz all the way home.