Tiptoe Through the True Bits

Love. The deepest of human emotions. Exhilarating, beautiful, fantastic love. Teenage love, but love nonetheless. Fairytale love. The prince and the princess and the happily ever after. Overwhelming love. Take-my-heart-and-I’ll-take-yours love. Hand holding love. Nail biting love. Head spinning love and lip kissing love. Love in all its glory.

There was no doubt in my mind that I was in love with Gerard Way. I adored every inch of him; every cell in his body. I loved the way his dark hair was constantly falling across his face and I loved the way he swept it away with his pale hands. I loved his hazel eyes, ever-changing in ratio of green to brown, but always warm. I loved his rough fingertips and I loved the way I shivered with anticipation every time they brushed against my skin. I loved the curve of his lips as he smiled at me and I loved the feel of his lips as they grazed my own. I loved the freckles on the back of his neck and I loved the way he let me count them as we lay in the park that evening.

The weather over the past few weeks had been inconsistent, at best, but finally the sun was shining again, and the grass was only now a little damp from the torrential storms of the weekend. We lay lazily on a picnic blanket found in the trunk of my car. Above us, the sky was fading from a bright blue to a swirl of pale orange. Below us, blades of coarse grass threatened to poke through the thin fabric of the blanket we lay upon.

Seven. I counted it out on my fingers and smiled as I raised my hands to show him. Seven freckles. Seven freckles on the back of your neck, Gerard. He counted them easily and rolled over onto his side, his arms reaching out for me as he let a grin spread across his face. I let him envelop me, a dumb smile still lingering on my lips as he planted upon them a soft kiss. He then pulled away, and began to inspect my own neck for freckles.

“You have eleven,” Gerard declared, his fingers gently roaming across the fragile skin of my neck, counting each blemish as he roamed, with his hands and his eyes, before once more laying down a soft kiss upon the skin; my flesh burning with desire as he pulled away, leaving a scorching red mark below my left ear and a hot flush upon my cheeks. “One for every day I’ve known you.”

Eleven days felt like a lifetime. I felt like Gerard and I knew each other as if we had been friends in the womb. We knew everything we needed to know about each other. We were both hurt, broken, and we were each fixing the other. Our spirits were aligned, as were our moles and our freckles, and the stars above us. We were two halves of the same and I was sure that whatever substance souls are made from, ours were identical. We were one.

I glanced at his face, shadows cast by the setting sun, only amplifying his beauty. His eyes twinkled, much more green than brown today, as he silently mused, gazing upwards into the pastel sky. He appeared to be thoughtful. I cast my eyes downwards and leaned into him, placing a hand over his heart and placing one leg slightly over his as I let my head fall into the crook of his shoulder. We remained silent for a few contented minutes, as I kept track of his heartbeats. They were quick, and light, but persistent. As long as his heart beats, I am happy.

“One for every day I have loved you.” It was no more than a whisper, a choke; voice dry and hoarse and raspy. But it was out there, waiting to be caught, to be responded to. It shocked me every bit as much as it shocked him, and anticipation hung heavily above us. There was no response for several stunned seconds, as I pursed my lips together and closed my eyes, tears threatening the lids, but for what? Pain? Sadness? Regret? Happiness? I could not decide. Not until he spoke again.

I felt a warm hand cup my face, and I was teased upwards into a sitting position. I dared myself to open my eyes, forcing back hot and undefined tears as I met his stunned gaze. His lips were parted slightly, and his eyes were wide and almost emerald as emotion pricked at them, too, shocked into submission to hear me speak for the first time. Suddenly, his face erupted into a huge grin, and he flung his arms around my shoulders, pulling me unceremoniously towards him, almost suffocating me with the aroma of almonds.

“Oh, El,” he whispered, his breath hot against my ear. “I’ve been waiting so long to hear that voice.”

I let out a short, sad laugh and pulled away only to allow myself to kiss him. Soft, sweet love against my lips.

I felt free, all of a sudden, and could not help but let another laugh escape me as we parted, our foreheads touching, gazing expectantly into his eyes. It was liberating relief. There was so much more I wanted to say to him, but now was not the time.

“I love you,” I repeated, stronger now, my voice steady and sure as I held his hands and looked him straight into the eyes. My throat burned, vocal chords straining as I carefully announced each syllable, raw from underuse but with all the meaning intact. My heart began to slam against my ribcage, chanting his name with every beat. Ger-ard, Ger-ard, Ger-ard. Love me, love me, love me.

“Elise, I love you too. Of course I love you. I love you so fucking much,” he breathed, and suddenly his fingers were running through my hair, and then I was on top of him, my shaky legs straddling each side of his waist as our lips collided, my own hands cupping his face, our hearts beating between us as one.

Love. Wonderful love. Honest and simple and true love. It was love that ended my silence, and love that followed us home that night, and love that made me pour out every thought in my head to Gerard as we perched on his bed, and love that made him listen – made him want to listen – and ask questions to ease me along. For I knew everything about him, but he knew surprisingly little about me. I just hoped he would still love me when he knew it all.

My voice was still hoarse, and my throat still sore as I let it all out. I told him my fears, my ambitions, my stories. I told him about my ex-boyfriend and my ex-friends and my parents. I told him about the fire, how everything was destroyed; my baby photos, my plectrum collection, my drawings, my clothes and my books, my family and my life. I told him about my aunt, my cousin, my absent uncle and my despicable place in their household. I told him about my dreams, the sadness that plagued me at night.

But mostly, I told him that I loved him, over and over. It felt so wonderful just to say it, and to hear it back, and to feel it as we kissed.

“I love you, Gerard Arthur Way.” Nothing could have wiped the smile from my face. My lips were sore from constant kisses of varying pressure, intensity and meaning. Soft kisses, rough kisses, quick kisses and long, deep, slow kisses. Passionate kisses, affectionate kisses and sweet kisses. All of them breathtaking kisses.

“I love you too, Elise Georgina LeBeau.” With that, we came together for another kiss. This one started out soft, gradually building in pressure until we were laying side-by-side, hands roaming every inch of each other’s bodies underneath clothes as we struggled out of them, buttons being unbuttoned and zips being unzipped until I was laying breathless before Gerard, in just a white cotton bra and panties, and drinking him in as he lay panting in his boxers shorts, our hands frozen on each other’s bare waists, eyes desperately seeking a hint of expression in the other’s.

“Are we gonna, like...” He cleared his throat a little, a faint, shy smile on his lips. “...do this?”

I couldn’t help but let a tiny, endeared laugh escape me, as I moved closer, wrapping my arms around his torso and running my fingertips slowly up and down the soft skin of his back. “I don’t know,” I whispered, catching him again, very briefly, at the side of the mouth. He let out a small groan against my lips and I smiled again.

Before I even knew it, Gerard was hovering above me, his breath and his hair tickling my face as he grinned mischievously down upon me, lowering himself to sink his teeth into my lower lip, making me gasp and close my eyes and whimper with desire all at once. Soon, I felt his mouth against my neck, and then he was trailing little kisses down my collarbone and between my breasts, onto the skin of my stomach, making my breath catch in my throat and another little groan escape me as his teeth grazed my thigh. I felt rough fingertips around the fabric of my underwear, dipping beneath only for a fraction of a second, making my toes curl and my back arch and every fibre of my being tingle with lust, and red-hot desire, and passion. Steadily, I reached a hand behind me, wrapping my fingers tightly around the frame of the bed as lips once more burned onto the flesh of my stomach, feeling the mattress beneath me shake as he made his way back up to my face, kissing my lips ever-so-softly before falling back to my side. I forced my eyes open indignantly, gazing across at the grinning boy beside me, propping his elbow against the pillow and his head upon his palm.

“You stopped.” Disappointment and annoyance could not be missed in my newly-restored voice, as I unfurled my fingers from the headboard and narrowed my eyes, trying to figure out his game. He appeared unperturbed by my glaring.

“I know.” The smirk across his lips was playful, teasing. Teasing indeed. Letting out a sigh of frustration, and rolling my eyes a little, although not being able to control the faint smile of satisfaction on my face, I found myself tracing small circles on the taut skin of Gerard’s stomach, my hand dipping farther and farther south as I watched his eyelids flutter, his teeth caress his lips, listening to his quick breaths and feeling for his quick heartbeats. I allowed three digits to cusp the waistband of his boxer shorts, smiling in amusement of petty vengeance as he groaned, before retracting my hand and smugly turning my back to him, rolling over to face the wall of his dark bedroom.

“Bitch,” he murmured from behind me, suddenly spinning me back around and pinning me gently beneath him, hands on either side of my head as I gazed playfully up at him, biting at my lip and narrowing my eyes seductively. “No more games,” he announced, hands tearing away my panties with all the lusts of an erotically charged teenage boy as I fumbled with his waistband, both wriggling to kick off the last scraps of fabric that were keeping our dignity intact. Now there was nothing but inches between him and I. His face softened as he bent his head to kiss my lips. “You’re sure this is what you want?” he whispered, rough fingers brushing against my cheek, once more flushing me all over with desire.

“Positive,” I replied, placing my hands on his biceps and easing him down into me. Pleasure instantly washed across my body, making me gasp audibly as I dug my fingertips deeper into his arms. He grinned, kissed me once more on the lips, and began.

Love. Lip biting, name gasping love. Physical love entwined with emotional love. Raw, honest love in its impurest form. Sweaty, heavy, breathy love. Magical love.

I never wanted this to end, but when it did it was perfect and beautiful and amazing. It ended with my fingernails deep into the flesh of Gerard’s back, with an arched spine and gasping moans and a long, hard kiss and pleasure over every single inch of me. It ended with both of us breathless, panting and perspiring and grinning wildly. It ended with our arms around each other, eyes locked together. It ended with whispers of “I love you,” in unison.