Something I Could Hold Onto
We'll drink and dance the night away.
"Some concert, eh?" Gerard asked with a grin.
Smirking, Frank cast his gaze downward towards the man sitting on the dirty ground. "Best ever."
Lyrics floated lazily around his skull, masking his thoughts in a haze of incoherency. His cell phone read "11:38", causing him to groan inwardly. Although he would no doubt be attempting sleep within the next hour, his little body was ready to burst with energy. His muscles burned, his head throbbed, and there would no doubt be bruises decorating his pale skin in the morning, yet he could not help but embrace the vigor that now flowed through his veins.
He took another drag of his cigarette before sliding down the wall as well and passing the stick to Gerard. Frank watched carefully as the small white cylinder pressed against the older man's lips, his chest expanding to make room for the fresh toxins. Smoke mingled with the air, painting the silence* with comfort.
"I still can't believe you got us to the front," said Frank with a shake of his head.
His words were met with a sly grin. "What can I say," his companion replied. "I'm just amazing."
He passed the cigarette back, whistling a quiet tune. Soon, his voice filled the air, his lips forming small "lalalas".*
"You're quite the song writer," Frank said with a sarcastic tone.
Gerard laughed, shaking off the comment. ""Where should we go now?" he asked, an air of spontaneity surrounding the query.
A shiver of excitement passed through Frank's bones. "Now?" he squeaked.
A soft smile graced the taller man's face. "Well, not now. I guess I should say next." He chuckled lightly, before adding, "Unless it's passed your bedtime."
He shoved his shoulder playfully, grabbing the tube of carcinogens and placing it hastily on his lips. "I'm short," he mumbled, "not young."
"Oh yeah? How old are you, then?"
"Twenty today, asshole!" he grinned.
A sudden wave of realization washed over Gerard visibly. His own hand attacked Frank's, dragging him off of the ground and pulling him down the dirt-encrusted sidewalk.
"Where the Hell are you taking me-"
"It's your birthday!"
"Your point?!" he asked between sharp intakes of breath.
"We're gonna celebrate! Now stop being a damn pixie* and keep up!"
Smirking, Frank cast his gaze downward towards the man sitting on the dirty ground. "Best ever."
Lyrics floated lazily around his skull, masking his thoughts in a haze of incoherency. His cell phone read "11:38", causing him to groan inwardly. Although he would no doubt be attempting sleep within the next hour, his little body was ready to burst with energy. His muscles burned, his head throbbed, and there would no doubt be bruises decorating his pale skin in the morning, yet he could not help but embrace the vigor that now flowed through his veins.
He took another drag of his cigarette before sliding down the wall as well and passing the stick to Gerard. Frank watched carefully as the small white cylinder pressed against the older man's lips, his chest expanding to make room for the fresh toxins. Smoke mingled with the air, painting the silence* with comfort.
"I still can't believe you got us to the front," said Frank with a shake of his head.
His words were met with a sly grin. "What can I say," his companion replied. "I'm just amazing."
He passed the cigarette back, whistling a quiet tune. Soon, his voice filled the air, his lips forming small "lalalas".*
"You're quite the song writer," Frank said with a sarcastic tone.
Gerard laughed, shaking off the comment. ""Where should we go now?" he asked, an air of spontaneity surrounding the query.
A shiver of excitement passed through Frank's bones. "Now?" he squeaked.
A soft smile graced the taller man's face. "Well, not now. I guess I should say next." He chuckled lightly, before adding, "Unless it's passed your bedtime."
He shoved his shoulder playfully, grabbing the tube of carcinogens and placing it hastily on his lips. "I'm short," he mumbled, "not young."
"Oh yeah? How old are you, then?"
"Twenty today, asshole!" he grinned.
A sudden wave of realization washed over Gerard visibly. His own hand attacked Frank's, dragging him off of the ground and pulling him down the dirt-encrusted sidewalk.
"Where the Hell are you taking me-"
"It's your birthday!"
"Your point?!" he asked between sharp intakes of breath.
"We're gonna celebrate! Now stop being a damn pixie* and keep up!"
♠ ♠ ♠
*How's that for a dedication? ;]]The title is from "Taste of Ink" by The Used; it's a very uplifting song :]].
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