The Elephant

The morning felt too sunny, too warm, despite the frigid air outside. Gerard rubbed at his eyes, groaning quietly as he attempted a stretch in the confined space between the armrests on the couch. He turned on his side, a bare foot slipping out of the blanket draped over him. His throat hurt from yelling the night before, his muscles still tense from the mood he’d fallen asleep in.

When he stood up his ankles cracked delightfully, and he patted down his hair as he moved through the living room and to the bathroom. He shut and locked the door before turning to the mirror. He splashed his face with cold water and brushed his teeth and combed at the mess atop his head, with little success in taming it. He didn’t feel the need to impress anybody today.

His dead arms lay limp by his sides as he left the bathroom and stumbled past the locked bedroom door, the one he’d been banned from the previous night.

The coffee maker in the kitchen was whispering, “Gerard,” enticingly, and he let himself be drawn towards it, preparing the instant brew mechanically, throwing the spoon into the sink and creating a loud, metallic clank and made one of the dogs jump and scurry off the bedroom. She scratched at the wooden door until it opened and she hobbled inside.

Gerard stared angrily at the corner near the entrance of the room, his vision going blurry after a moment, and it took the feeling of wetness on his cheek for him to realize he was crying. He wiped at his eyes and sipped his black coffee. He felt like he’d been trampled by a stampede of elephants twice over. The quiet whispers and sobs that sounded from the other room were of no help, they only made Gerard feel worse. He stood and poured more coffee, along with some milk and sugar and he let second dog clatter around his feet as he knocked on the bedroom door.

He listened closely for Frank’s feet padding across the hardwood floor, and the lock being undone, and he waited until he heard the blankets crinkling to open the door and step inside. He lay there, curled up in the puffy white sheets, only the very top of his head poking out. Gerard bit his lip as he sat down carefully beside the mess of a man next to him, his almost silent crying just barely audible.

“Frankie, baby,” Gerard began. “Frankie, I brought you some, uh, some coffee, just the way you like it.” At that Frank turned around slowly, his glazy eyes poking out and staring at Gerard. He sniffled and rubbed his face, looking tired and distressed. Gerard put the cup on the bedside table and leaned down, pulling the covers away from the younger man’s face and reaching underneath them to lace their fingers together. To his surprise, Frank didn’t resist, but grabbed onto his hand and held tight. Gerard smiled a tiny, sad smile, bending his torso until his lips made contact with Frank’s forehead, leaving a small kiss in his wake. He would never admit it, but he loved moments like these, the makeup after the almost breakup. The light kissing and touching after all the yelling and fighting.

Frank shiny eyes watched closely as Gerard’s fingers, the ones that weren’t locked with his, moved up slowly to trace his throat, his jaw, his chin and his lips. His index lingered on the pouty, pink skin of Frank’s lower lip. The smaller man was quick to lean out of his touch to kiss him, his hands tangling in Gerard’s hair in a sudden fit of regret for the words he’d shouted the night before.

Frank’s eyebrows furrowed together sadly, his mouth moving against Gerard’s apologetically, a kiss that screamed, “I’m terribly sorry, I love you so fucking much.”