But I'm a Guitarist!

The weekend had gone by fast. Too fast. I was sitting in my class--bored--trying to find someone to talk to when I noticed someone walk into class. Someone I hadn’t seen in quite awhile. He sat next to me like he used to, only now he was wearing more appropriate clothes. Instead of a skirt and heels he replaced them with pants and shoes much like my own.

“Hey, Iero,” he said, obviously noticing I was staring. How did he know my name?

“Uh hey...“

“Calvin.” He smiled with his hand out. At least someone was being nice to me. It was refreshing to see a friendly face rather than the sinister ones I’ve been met with lately.

“I haven’t seen you in awhile.” A question burned with the statement I said. I didn’t mean to be nosey, it was small talk, but really, the curiosity was killing me. What do they do when they find out you don’t want to be straight? Because obviously wearing skirts and heels was some sort of rebellion in this institution.

The smile on his face faded as he agreed. “Uh, yeah. They didn’t really appreciate my… attire.”

“Oh.” Well, obviously. But a new question popped up in my mind. “Why’d you do it?”

It took him a minute to answer, almost as if he was wondering if he should tell me or not. “I just... I don’t know,” he said quietly. “I just like the way it feels.”

How could wearing pantyhose and skirts and heels feel good?

“You wear makeup right?” he asked while looking around, making sure no one is listening to our conversation.

“Uh...yeah, sometimes,” I finally admitted after a long silence. “Y’know… when no one is around…”

“Well, it’s the same for me. I mean, don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.” He pretended to work in his notebook while going on. “All my life I’ve felt like I’ve been wearing a huge personality mask. I didn’t want anyone to know that I was… you know, and I felt like in order to be myself I had to physically disguise myself in a way. So that no one would notice.”

It took me a minute to process. “So, you dress up as a girl when you want to be yourself? And you dress as yourself when you’re pretending to be something you’re not?”

“I guess,” he laughed, although I'm sure he didn't find it funny. “It’s not so much that I want to be a girl, I just don’t feel like I can be myself when I’m… exposed?”

I nodded my head, showing him I understood. I guess that was kind of like me when I played music. I just felt amazing, myself, like nothing could hurt me. But when it was quiet I felt like I had a reputation to uphold… or not to. “Yeah, I get it.”

I couldn’t get that conversation out of my head as I said my good nights. I crawled into bed still wide awake, wishing the night fairy would bless me with beautiful sleep. But wasn't going to come.

I got up out of bed after an hour of staring at the shadows on the ceiling. Maybe a little walk would clear out all the bad thoughts and replace them with sleepy dreams of unicorns and butterflies. But who was I kidding?

I walked out of the boy’s hall and to the stairs, hopeful that this midnight walk would be better than the last. I was about to descend when I decided to just say fuck it and I walked straight into the girls' hall without another thought. No one was around anyways.

It was almost identical to the boys' only everything was pink. I walked into a room. I wasn’t completely sure what I was doing; I just knew I needed to do it. The room was empty, probably Carla’s--her grandfather had a heart attack and she was allowed to go home for a few days. I didn’t turn on the light, an obvious indicator that someone was here. Her room was lit up enough though that her dresser could be seen in the dark.

I just did what I felt was right. And right now, shuffling through her panty drawer, finding white tights and putting them on, that was what felt right. I tried to be quiet, and in the small room all you could hear was my panting as I tried to get the skirt to zip up and my huff of accomplishment as it did.

“Do you need help?” someone whispered softly in the night. But the soft tone didn’t keep me from jumping. I turned around, the button up shirt was half undone on me and I think the black lacy bra was on backwards or sideways or something.

“Umm, I-“ I gripped the dresser behind me as I fished around my mind, trying to come up with an explanation, but there were none. “I was just curious.”

He slowly walked up to me and without another word he started unbuttoning my shirt. There was nothing I could do. I was frozen as his fingers danced on each button briefly, undoing them all. I shivered every time his knuckles touched my bare torso. I don’t think he noticed despite the fact he wouldn’t take his eyes off me. I couldn’t help it, though. I'd never been touched like this before, not so delicatley.

Once the shirt was on the floor he grabbed my hips and softly spun me around so I was up against the dresser. He undid the bra, but instead of taking it of, he adjusted it and did it back up again. This time it was more comfortable than when I had done it.

I picked the shirt up and put it back on. I went to button it up but Gerard was already there. About halfway up my shirt he stopped briefly and reached to the dresser behind me and opened the drawer, not once letting his beautiful, glimmering eyes leave mine. He revealed two pairs of socks with a crooked smile and folded them neatly before placing them inside the bra and then went back to doing up the shirt. I just smiled with him.

After he was done he stood there for a minute, just looking, and not even at the female clothing I wore. He was looking at me: my face, my eyes, my lips. I felt naked under his watchful gaze, as if someone had unexpectedly run off with my clothes. He looked so serious as he reached up to my face, and before I could prepare myself his soft hand was grazing my left cheek sending tingles throughout my body. I didn’t stop it, I just leaned into it, allowing my eyes to drift shut, letting the heavenly feeling consume me.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered.