Let's Sleep Till the Sun Burns Out

*Gerard’s POV*

“Geeeeee, I’m bored!” my boyfriend whines as he hops into my lap.

“Well what do you wanna do?” I question, giggling slightly at his childish antics.

“Ugh, I don’t knooooooow,” he sighs, continuing to stretch out his words and laying his head down on my shoulder.

“Well think of something, them we’ll do it,” I reason.

He groans into me, “Like what?!”

It seems that over the past few months we’ve turned into THAT couple. You know, the one’s that never go anywhere, and spend all their time talking to only each other and fucking constantly. But hey, I’m not complaining.

My thoughts of how we should spend our day are interrupted by the obnoxious ringing of the phone. “I’ll get it,” I tell him, lifting him from his seat on my lap and onto the cushion of the couch beside us and I shuffle into the kitchen where our phone is located.

It’s strange that someone is calling this number when we all have cell phones, probably a telemarketer of some sort. “Hello?” I answer into the receiver.

“Why hello there,” a voice menacingly greets me.

“Um, who’s this?” I ask cautiously to the other line. Some scary ass prank caller perhaps?

“Aw,” the man sighs unconvincingly, “you don’t even know the voice that belongs to the father of the fag you’re fucking?”

As he gives his identity away, I freeze at the memory of the only time I’d met him and those of the times Adam was telling me the horrendous stories of him.

“What the fuck do you want asshole?” I growl at the bottom of my voice so my boyfriend won’t hear.

“I want my son,” he demands. I can practically hear the alcohol on his voice. Fuck no is he getting my baby.

“Well that’s too god damn bad for you,” I hiss, widening my eyes in anger even though I know he can’t see my actions.

“And what do you think you’re going to do about it, queer?” he spits.

“Leave him the fuck alone,” I say, clutching the edge of the counter to release my frustration.

“I dare you to stop me. See what happens,” his voice takes a threatening tone.

“Fuck you,” I shoot in lack of anything better or more spiteful to say.

“Just remember faggot, I can take your world.”

My world? My world? Adam is my world. I stand slack-jawed in uncertainty, fury, and anxiety until I hear the familiar sound of a dial tone, telling me that he has hung up. I swallow all the fear I’m holding and set then phone down, then stroll nonchalantly back into the living room to my waiting lover.

“Who was it, hun?” he tilts his head to the side.

He can’t know. I’ve seen the horror his so-called-father instills in him. I have to protect him. If I were to loose Adam….

“No one babe,” I blink away the tears forming in my eyes and the brief thought of my life without him. That would be like living underwater. I wouldn’t be able to breathe if he were gone…

I return to my spot on the sofa and take him in my arms again, wish I’d never let go to answer that damn phone.

“Are you alright?” he asks with confusion and concern etched in his words.

“I’m fine doll face,” I put on a fake smile.

“Mmkay,” he grins.

“I love you,” I state as I take his hand in mine.

“I love you too,” he says, nuzzling into my neck. I wrap my free arm around his waist and kiss his forehead gently.

“So what do you want to do today?” he inquires, returning to our previous conversation, which feels as if it happened days ago.

“Want to go to the park?” I suggest, remembering the first time we had met.

“Yes!” he exclaims, most likely having thoughts similar to mine. He hops up, pulling me with him, our fingers still entwined. We walk merrily to the park, skipping occasionally, along the empty sidewalks of New Jersey.

One we reach our destination, Adam’s energy level seems to have gone way down, and he is now yawning every five minutes. We sit on the bench where we’d first introduced ourselves.

As he lays his head onto my shoulder yet again, I think of how picture perfect we look. Two once broken souls, that have managed to mend each other’s shattered hearts, holding one another on a chipped green bench, my head lazily resting on his, or hands linked together as the sun sets into the pink and orange sky, reflecting into the clear waters of the pond.

I notice then, that his eyes have fluttered shut and his breathing is now even. Sometime in the few minutes we’ve been sitting here, he’s managed to fall asleep. Slowly, I reach into my back pocket and pull out my cell phone, turning the built in camera in it, on. I hold it up in front of us, and snap the photo while looking down at him.

I gaze the picture I’d taken, his blonde hair falling into his face, shadowing his features ever-so slightly, and a small smile still evident on his sleeping face. I can’t help but let the grin that’s forcing it’s way out, play on my lips.

“You’re beautiful,” I whisper in his ear.