Pretty Boy.

“Just...I don’t know, relax?” Frank shrugs, toying with the settings on his camera and not looking at Gerard. Gerard is on Frank’s red couch, feet flat on the floor, back rod straight. Gerard tries, leaning back and failing miserably, looking like a half inflated balloon.

The plan had been to take the pictures at the same spot as before, but when Frank had arrived, miniscule puffs of white snow had begun settling in Gerard’s contrasting hair, the boy shivering with goosebumps erupting across his pale skin. Frank couldn’t let him stay outside in that. It wouldn’t have made for good pictures he tells himself. Confusingly, when he asked Gerard if he wanted to go home with him and take the photos, he had obliged sadly, head low. He had followed Frank, scraping his heels as the flurries of snow thickened, unspeaking and sullen. His apartment was only ten minutes walk but it was silent and Frank couldn’t help but feel like the whole process might be a little forceful. He didn’t care all that much. When they arrived, Gerard had meandered into the living room, eying the surroundings. There had been a moment where Gerard had looked at Frank, defeated, and dropped his pale fingers to his belt buckle, toying with the metal.

“Do you need me to...?” he had sighed, eyes wandering away from Frank’s frown as he tried to suppress all the shame he knew was imminent.

“What? Jesus, fuck, no. Don’t...I don’t want that. You’re a minor, right? For fuck sake,” Frank choked, both irate at the suggestion and saddened by what Gerard was willing to do. He wanted to spit lots of words about what kind of person he is and isn’t but was distracted into simple silence, observing that Gerard’s belt was now unlooped, button on his jeans undone to reveal a smooth triangle of white skin.

“Actually no, I’m nineteen. And I’ve done worse,” Gerard had stated lowly, redoing the fastenings once Frank said no again. Frank didn’t know how to reply, knew the implications but also knew he shouldn’t assume anything about Gerard. He busied himself with his camera, insisting Gerard sit on his velvet couch and ignoring the prior subject completely.

“Do you want coffee or something?” Frank asks, eyes still pressed to the fixings on his camera.

“No. Thanks. Can I smoke in here?”

Again, Frank shrugs, eyes finally falling on the creases on Gerard’s forehead. “Yeah, do what you want.”

Gerard rustles around in his pocket, finding the crumpled packet and placing a cigarette between his lips and offers the packet to Frank. He shakes his head, accustom and favouring to smoke roll-ups, and Gerard lights up; sighing and tipping his head back as he exhales, eyes heavy lidded. He sinks into the couch comfortable now, repeating the motions of smoking and he looks so...at ease in the unfamiliar surroundings that Frank can’t help but find it rather beautiful. He raises the camera and clicks once. Gerard’s eyes widen, startled, and he smirks, trailing his tongue over his lips to moisten them and looking away from Frank. Continuing the rhythmic inhale-exhale motions he’s used to, Gerard ignores the infrequent clicks and flashes, looking out the window at some sort of bird.

Frank finds an ashtray and places it on the table when Gerard’s smoke is almost spent. Then, when he leans forward to crush the cigarette into the glass, Frank snaps again according to his plan.

“What do you want me to...do?” Gerard smiles, ignoring the flash of light that occurs whilst he’s speaking and pulls one knee up to his chest.

“I don’t know, you seem to make good pictures without even trying. You’re a photograph in yourself. No cameras needed,” Frank sighs, looking at Gerard through the camera instead of directly. Gerard laughs; click.

“Thanks? Sounds fucking insane but,” Gerard shrugs and cards his fingers through his hair; click. “I guess you’re just strange.”

Frank continues clicking as he speaks, “I’m strange because you take good pictures?”

Another shrug. “No one’s ever seemed particularly interested before, I guess,” he looks at Frank, a slight smile playing on his lips, “I just assumed I wasn’t worth the interest.”

Another click. Frank’s words are slow, laboured through the veil of concentration he’s bestowing on taking the pictures of Gerard, finding his sheer presence fascinating: “I think you’re very worth the interest. Like I said, you take nice pictures without trying or even being aware of the camera. It’s quite remarkable really.” Frank doesn’t adorn his words or thoughts, is too busy concentrating, gleeful with the result of his words when Gerard leans on his palm, eyes bright with parted lips.

Gerard plays up for the camera after that, pouting his lips and laughing when Frank faux-glares at him, curling forefingers and thumbs together to create a loveheart and holding it in front of his face. Frank manages to get dozens of good shots though. Some are loud: Gerard laughing or growling like a fucking idiot. Then some are muted: Gerard talking softly, Gerard staring out of the window at birds.

The light starts to fade outside too soon for Frank’s liking and he doesn’t want to take pictures in lamplight. So he sets his camera down, Gerard by this time has both feet tucked under him, chin resting on his folded arms as he stares out the window at the sinking sky, fading light glowing against his skin.

“I think we’re done for now,” Frank sighs, arching his spine and wincing at the proceeding cracks. Gerard looks startled and just nods slowly.

“Okay, well thanks, I guess.”

“Nah, thank you for letting me do this. I know it’s sort of creepy but,” Frank shrugs, curling his arms over his stomach, “I don’t care all that much.”

Gerard laughs, “I guess I should go then.”

“Where are you gonna stay tonight?” Frank asks, frowning. Gerard eyes him for a long moment, shrugs and drops his eyes.

“My brother’s maybe...I’ll find someplace.”

“You could crash on the couch if you wanted. I’m outta’ here pretty early but if you need somewhere to sleep...”

Gerard frowns, twisting his mouth to the side, “No, it’s cool. Thanks anyway though, Frank.” Gerard smiles and makes for the door, knotting the crimson scarf around his neck and stuffing his hands into his pockets.

“Hey, wait a second.” Frank finds his wallet in his pocket and rifles around for the money, handing Gerard one hundred and fifty dollars in bills. Gerard looks at the money between his fingers, counting silently.

“Are you sure? This seems like a shitload for one set of pictures...”

“Nah, technically two sets. And if anything, it’s kind of underpaid for the average ‘model’, but to be honest, I can’t really afford anymore,” Frank grins though earns only a small, melancholy smile from Gerard, who thanks him heading for the door again. “Wait, no, here,” Frank finds a used envelope and writes down his phone number, tearing the strip off and handing it to Gerard. “Just in case, yeah?”

Gerard nods and pushes the piece of paper into his pocket. Frank doubts that he’ll ever use it but needs to know that he’s done virtually everything in his power to help the boy who seems so lost. Gerard thanks him again and is gone with one last fleeting glance.

Frank makes himself dinner and sits down to edit some pictures of people he will never care about. At some point, he glances out the window and notices the snow. It’s fluttering from the sky in torrents, layering the ground with white like thick frosting. Frank sighs, leaning back in his chair. Gerard could be out in that, he thinks. He could freeze to death and I’ve done nothing about it. He wishes he could have convinced Gerard to stay, just for a few more hours.

Eventually, Frank switches off the lights and wanders to his bedroom. He strips down to his boxers, shivering in the wintry air of his apartment, and is ready to climb into bed when the phone rings. He begrudgingly makes his way through to the kitchen, lifting the receiver, assuming it to either be his mom or a sales call.

“Hello?”

“H-Hi...it’s Ger-Gerard,” Frank can hear his voice shaking, can hear wind howling at the other end.

“Hi...”

“Could...Could I come sleep on your couch?”