Nothing and Everything

Conor flipped the bland, beige light switch and sat down next to the sink. He had to go back out there, he had to face them. Parties, talking about his music with Janet, greeting people, socializing. It just wasn’t him. It wasn’t Jeff either, but Conor supposed he felt obligated. Or, his mother did, for that matter.

Jeff’s mother. Dinner parties, caterers, martinis, expensive coat racks. It was her, not Jeff.

No matter how hard he tried, it was impossible for Conor to distract himself from the man who was probably still standing in the hallway, smirking to himself, downing something, fast. There was so much he needed to say, wanted to scream, but Gerard would be listening. Gerard would tell him what he thought. Gerard would be there again, just when he thought he had forgotten...

Logical lapses, everything in logical lapses.

He stood up and, with the flick of his index finger, gave the bathroom an entirely different atmosphere. He switched places with the blond woman waiting outside, and paced awkwardly down the hall. One foot, then the other. Breathe in, breathe out.

“Hello again.” The words collided furiously with his ears, with his mind, as Conor attempted to grasp Gerard’s words. It was hopeless. That’s all it ever would be.

“H-hi,” Conor managed.

He wasn’t going to dance with him. Most importantly, Gerard was not even going to ask him to dance. It simply wasn’t an option tonight. It wasn’t. “So, how, are you?” Conor tried. Maybe he had forgotten as well...

“Oh, I’m doing really well actually,” a collected, almost satisfied look plastered on Gerard’s face.

“That’s-” Conor started, but Gerard decided to try again, and interrupted him. It wasn’t rude, just abrupt. “Now that you’re here, not... running away.”

Conor nodded briefly, assuringly almost. Almost. “Yeah. I’m, I’m doing fine as well.”

Gerard nodded slowly, taking his time, waiting for the right moment for whatever it was he wanted to try next.

“Janet’s really lucky, you know.”

But Conor didn’t know. Janet was becoming an entirely different person, pinning moderately-priced, plastic name tags on everything she had control over. Even me, Conor thought. As soon as the words rushed into his head, Conor tried to push them out again; they were never there, they weren’t real.

But they were.

“Yeah, so... You’re working on some new stuff, that’s great. Something about mirrors? Is that what Jeff said?”

Conor frowned, unhappy to bring up anything with relation to his wasteful, unpopular music. “Uh, yeah. I... I don’t know. It doesn’t... know me either, so, it may be a year or two.”

He really didn’t know what he was saying, but it didn’t matter. As long as this part of their conversation was over, as long as it wouldn’t be brought up again.

“Wow, that sounds amazing.” Although his voice held confidence, Gerard was failing miserably, his plan falling to pieces as Conor ended the conversation, backing up slowly, towards all the people he didn’t know.

Conor stopped, and decided he owed Gerard an apology. “I’m sorry. I just - these parties, they’re - I can’t do it, you know?”

“Yeah, I know, more than anything, so let’s get out of here, okay?”

“Just, you, and me? Away? From... Jeff?” Conor paused, choking silently on his words. “From Janet?” It was almost a whisper, overly dramatic, like a movie.

“Yeah. Janet.” Gerard’s lips began a journey downward, but he stopped himself directly before it turned into a frown.

Before Conor could open his mouth, Gerard took his wrist gently, although he wanted to take Conor’s hand, and began to lead him down the hallway, out of the door, into Early July.

Conor panicked. His mind was screaming as Gerard’s free hand scribbled sloppily onto a stray receipt, signing the name that he knew nothing about, a name that had been plaguing him for months.

The light, sky-colored walls were closing in on Conor, engulfing him, stealing his breath and his identity as Gerard led him outside with nothing but a coat and a smile.

The door slammed shut, the party silenced, the night dark and warm. Gerard lit a cigarette as he ran his eyes over Conor’s form, silhouetted in the doorway. The man’s eyes were cast downwards, awkwardly, his hands jammed into his overcoat pockets. His pants were clean and pressed, his hair combed and lightly gelled. Gerard smirked, deciding there was no chance Conor had dressed himself.

Conor glanced upwards, their eyes locking for a tense second. Gerard smiled. Conor glanced away, reluctantly reminiscent of the time he had broken his arm in fifth grade. The nurse had shown him the x-ray, pointing out the splintered bone, the bend of his wrist, the spaces between his joints. Eleven-year-old Conor had shaken his head and half-whispered, half-requested that she turn the projector off.

You can see right through me, can’t you. See my fractures, my imperfections, all laid out for you like a storybook.

The very idea of x-rays, of Gerard’s eyes made Conor very uncomfortable. His skin burned and crawled. Gerard embraced the awkward silence, an irritatingly arrogant smile plastered across his face.

Conor couldn’t take it. He plunged, he spoke: “Do you ever feel nonexistent?”

“What?” Gerard laughed.

“No–I’m serious. It’s like… everything around you, it’s there,” Conor chose his words carefully, his voice growing stronger, “and it’s solid and it’s perfect. But you–you’re just… floating. Do you ever feel that way?” Gerard smiled, resting a hand on Conor’s shoulder. “No, not really.”

“Oh.” Conor cast his eyes downward, embarrassed. Gerard spoke, “You’re odd, you know, always running away, always hiding. Sometimes I wonder if you really do exist. But that’s why I–I…” he trailed off.

Conor felt his muscles tighten, his heart flutter against his chest. “We better get back inside,” he mumbled something about Jeff and Hayley and Janet.

“Wait! One more thing,” Gerard pulled Conor’s hand away from the doorknob, facing him in mock seriousness. “Coffee. Tuesday. And you’re not floating away this time,” it was more of an order than an offer. Conor opened his mouth. Gerard placed a finger over his lips, silencing him, “No excuses.”

Conor took a deep breath, “Alright.”

“Promise?”

“Yeah.”

Gerard, satisfied for the moment, held the door open for Conor as they stepped into the blinding yellow light of the party.