Arrangements

Gerard held my hand tightly, running his thumb over my knuckles. It was getting difficult to tell him this tiny little truth, because he was too sweet to me. He and I were walking to the hotel to have lunch; he kept me close to him.

We got to the hotel luncheon, and we sat at a table. He sat across from me, he took hold of both my hands now. I smiled, "What's this about?"

He smirked at me, "You have soft hands."

I raised my brow, "No way, do I? I've cut them dozens of times." I rambled.

He nodded, "Yeah, I love holding them."

I blushed, forgetting for a second that I had betrayed him. I kissed his hand, "I'm really happy you're here, Gee."

"Me too. I'm kind of glad I didn't lose you to Greenwald," he joked; it sent a wave of nervousness through my veins.

"Shit." I finally muttered.

Gerard gave me a confused look, "What's up?"

I took my hands from his, "I need to tell you something, Gerard."

His features turned even more, "What?"

I coursed my hair, looking away, letting the layers fall over my shoulders, "I've done something terrible that's been eating me up inside. You may not care...or you might," I was rambling once again, "I...I didn't mean to do it, but I stopped it. I stopped before anything could get any more--"

He stopped me, "What did you do?" He put his hand on my arm.

"I..." I looked at him, "I kissed Alex. I didn't mean to, it just happened and I--"

"You kissed him." He stated smoothly.

I nodded, licking my lips, "I stopped before anything could--"

"No. You did more, didn't you?" His anger was rising; fuck, I could see it rising like a goddamn thermometer.

"No, I didn't." I told him calmly, "I stopped myself, I thought of you."

"Not enough to stop yourself from kissing him." He countered quickly and angrily.

I felt my lips tighten, "It was accident."

"There's no such thing as accidental infidelity." 

"So, you're gonna give me shit, when you cheat on me every chance you get?" I felt my own anger picking up.

A perfect, freaking storm.

"I apologized--"

"I'm apologizing, too, goddammit!" I slapped my hand on the table, causing guest to look at us.

"Then how come I feel like you're mocking me? Are you doing this to get back at me?"

"No!"

"You're doing it out of spite--"

"It was an accident! I didn't mean to do it!" People started to look, and I rested my forehead in my palm.

"Why didn't you just sleep with him? It would've made it a lot more easier for me to call you a whore."

I snapped my head at him, he had a smirk and he crossed his arms lazily across his torso. 

"You can cheat, but I can't kiss a guy?" I felt my lip tremble.

"No, you can't."

"You're such a selfish prick! A goddamn hypocrite!"

"I admit to it. You're trying to hide the fact you're a fucking slut. I think you love the fact this asshole worships the goddamn ground you walk on. It's fucking sickening." Gerard gave me the dirtiest look I had ever seen...

My stomach twisted in knots, I wanted to cry, but I held myself together. "I thought maybe you would understand and we could forget this happened. I thought being honest with you would make you see how much I love you--"

"Don't give me some bullshit speech about you loving me. I don't wanna hear that martyr bullshit." Gerard continued to degrade me with onlookers glancing and watching us.

"Martyr bullshit? Who the fuck is acting like a martyr? I'm being honest with you!"

"You're a fucking whore." He spat at me.

I wanted to tell him off, but something stopped me. I had an epiphany, almost. 

"I don't know why I continue to beat the dead horse with a stick." I looked at him with tears filling my eyes, "Maybe, this happened for a reason. Maybe we shouldn't be together...you like to party and I'm too responsible; we only match in fictional fairytales. So...this is probably a good thing, that you believe that I'm a whore and I don't care a fuck about you, it's probably a sign from God...or my father, telling me, finally, to get out while I can."

Gerard just stared at me, I couldn't read his emotions. The tears in my eyes clouded my vision.

"So...I'm gonna go back to my gallery now, I've lost my appetite. You can put the food on my bill, and I'll see you...whenever. Have a good show or whatever." I got up from the table, adjusting my skirt and grabbed my bag.

This one time, I was glad he didn't stop me. It showed where Gerard stood with me. If he truly forgave me or believed me, he would have stopped me, but he didn't.


You can pretend all you want that you aren't hurting, but you can't pretend that it isn't on your mind. You can pretend that one person you love isn't doing you wrong, but you can't pretend that it's a factor in your head. You can pretend all you want, but when you have to stop living in your head, you have to face reality.

I didn't understand why he had gotten so mad at me. Why he had called me a whore, when I didn't do anything. I am not guilty, if I am, then he should've been put to death years ago. 

All I wanted was to be honest with him, to reestablish the fact that I could trust Gerard with anything. I was really wrong. So, I guess, maybe things between us wouldn't get better or go right. Never once did I think I should have kept my mouth shut. Most would say I should've kept it to myself, but I couldn't...I mean, I assumed Gerard wouldn't care.

But, he cared a lot.

I think it had to do with his goddamn ego. I was making him look bad. Well, I wouldn't be making him look back anymore; this is the last time.


There were a lot of people from the Hills at the exhibit, and I was busy introducing myself, like I was used to. I wore a nice black dress, and didn't do much with my hair, and my makeup was light. I looked okay, but I felt like hell inside. I didn't feel like mingling, and meeting people, but I did anyway. I sort of lost myself in the conversations and talking about my and James' art.

I had thrown back a lot of champagne and was getting dizzier as the night dwindled. I saw a lot of those red SOLD stickers and it made me sad, I don't know why, I just did. Alcohol did funny things to me, I had wanted to run off and cry.

When it was finally over, Dave took my to the side, "What's wrong? You look like you're gonna burst."

"My paintings are going away," I sobbed lightly.

He frowned, "Stormy, are you alright? What's wrong?"

"My paintings..." I sobbed again.

"Honey, I think you're drunk."

I nodded, "Yeah, so." I stated, rather than asked.

"The show is almost over, then you can go to your suite and get some rest."

I frowned and tried not to talk too much. I was still harboring that need to cry, but I held back as much as I could. When it was all over, I went to the back and started to cry. I felt like a fool, because I was drunk and crying. I tried to sober myself up before I thanked James and went back to the suite.