Death-Wish Kids

Riding in the car while Gerard was driving was practically terrifying. Every time he would hit the brakes, I clutched the door handle, wondering if he drove like this so often that he'd become immune to the way it was supposed to be or if he did purely to freak me out, seeing as he smiled just slightly every time.

He paid just about as much attention to the music as he did to navigating the streets. He wasn't necessarily distracted, but had seemingly conditioned himself to do both at the same time. His phone was still in the pocket of his jacket and stared blaring just as he started to merge onto I-89 towards the edge of the city. He frowned and pulled it out, shaking his head at the name on the screen.

"What, Ma?" he asked into the phone, pulling it back to check something on the screen. He rolled his eyes and glanced towards one of the signs we passed. "I'm not in the neighborhood," he argued, frowning as she continued on. "No- I'm on - I can't tell you."

He sighed in annoyance and spared a glance at me as he switched lanes and answered his mother. "Because it's a secret and I can't tell you because then everyone."

He quieted down as she said something to him and I watched his expressions as they changed from playfully annoyed to bored and then back again as she rambled to him about something, probably demanding to know what he was up to.

Finally, he answered. "Ma, I have to let you go. We-" He stopped as she cut in. "I promise, okay? I'll explain later." He said a quick goodbye before she could cut in again and then hung up the phone and dropped it in the cup holder.

I looked at him and then towards the cell phone. He caught my movement and responded. "Overbearing parents," he said, shaking his head at the thought.

"Your mom is amazing," I replied, wondering how he could even pretend to be bothered by her version of over-protectiveness. It seemed that the brothers got to do whatever they wanted and their mom was always in the background checking up on them rather than dictating their movements. "And your dad too," I added as I remembered how he interacted with his sons, "He's seems really great."

Gerard nodded noncommittally. "Yeah, they're not bad. They're just not very good about letting Mikes and I actually grow up."

I smiled. "Well you do still live at home," I answered, waiting to get a rise out of him.

He turned his head from the road and gave me a quick, unamused look. "I don't still live at home," he corrected, "I live at home again. There's a difference."

"Where did you live before?"

He raised his eyebrows and gave me a look that dared me to wait and see. I didn't ask again as he pulled into the left turn lane and slowed to wait for traffic to pass.

As he made the left and began maneuvering through a street filled with little shops, I asked, "Where are we going? I don't see any restaurants."

He grinned and shook his head at me. "Don't worry, you'll get your food," he answered, taking a curve at a nauseating speed. "I just have to stop and pick something up before you do."

Within a minute he was pulling into the back parking lot of a row of buildings that were all connected. They were a series of shops that lined the streets just beyond the main road of stores and Gerard parked haphazardly and turned off the engine in the closest empty spot.

I peered at the buildings. They were all obviously two floors and each one had a set of stairs outside leading up to the second landing. Gerard yanked the keys from the ignition. "You can come in if you want," he offered, undoing his seatbelt, "I've just got to grab a couple of things that I left here."

"Who's place is this?" I questioned as I followed his lead and climbed out of the blue vehicle, "Did you live here?"

He waited for me around the driver's side of the car and nodded, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket. "For awhile. I roomed with some friends. They're not home now, so don't worry."

We took the wooden stairs and he fiddled with his keys, trying to find the right one. "If you moved out, why do you still have your key?" I asked, motioning to what he was doing when he looked back to answer.

He pushed the door open and shrugged. I stepped inside and took a look at the place. It was a mess. The floor was covered with clothes and cups and more and the TV was left on, despite what Gerard said about nobody being home. The couch was cluttered with random items and a large dog rested in the middle of it, barely perking his head up to see who was coming through the door.

Gerard stuffed his keys back into his pocket and greeted the dog, kicking a box out of the way as he went over and dropped down onto the black leather sofa. "Chugger," he greeted, practically laying on the huge dog, "How've you been, boy?"

The dog wasn't the only pet in the room. By the large TV was an aquarium that was filled to the brink with different kinds and colors of fish and on the other side of a large lounge chair was a cage holding two large hamsters.

"Someone really likes animals," I commented, wondering how the apartment managed to look so terrible but still smell decent despite the pets.

Gerard nodded as he lugged himself up from the couch. "There's a cat around here somewhere," he answered, looking for it, "Her name is Mushu."

"Like the dragon from Mulan?"

Gerard shook his head. "Like the Chinese food."

He grabbed my wrist and pulled me through the messy living room and down the hall. There were four doors and the first one we passed was a bathroom. He pulled me down to the end and through the open doorway, grinning triumphantly as he barreled into the bedroom.

"I let Ray borrow my laptop," he explained, hurrying around the unmade bed to collect the little machine that was sitting there, "He was supposed to bring it back the other day, but conveniently forgot."

"This is his apartment?" I asked, remembering the curly haired guy from the day at the park.

"Why do you sound so surprised?" he asked with a grin as he closed the computer and lifted it up.

"I didn't really consider that they were old enough to have their own place," I replied with a shrug, "It just kind of surprised me that they don't actually live with their parents."

He gathered the laptop up and located the charger and shoved it in the bag that was forgotten on the floor. "They did right after high school but Ray moved out here with his girlfriend awhile back and then Bob and I moved in not too long after."

"So do the three of them still live here?"

"Shey moved out not too long after moving in," he admitted with a smile as he stepped around Ray's bed and led me out of the room again, "They hadn't really been together long so he wasn't too heart broken."

He turned into the room to the left of the hallway and I followed him, immediately understanding that this had been his room when he lived here. Like his basement, this room was also plastered with hand drawn images and some posters, although it was a lot less than his other room at his parents' house. There were also random fliers for bar shows and pictures of him and his friends tacked up.

It was obvious that this wasn't used as a bedroom too often anymore, seeing as a small futon was pushed under the window rather than a bed like Ray had and the rest of the space was taken up by instruments and cables and a small table right in the center that was piled high was papers and junk.

"Do you stay here a lot still?" I asked, watching as he rummaged through the drawers in the nightstand that was shoved awkwardly by the futon.

He shrugged and slammed the top drawer as he moved onto the next one. "Sometimes. Bob and Ray haven't found another roommate yet so we've just kept this room to practice in."

I took another look at the keyboard that was pushed against the far wall and the oversized drumset squeezed opposite the futon. "Practice for what?" I dared to ask.

"The guys and I started a band not too long ago," he replied, moving onto the third and final drawer, "Nothing really serious, but it's cool to just hang out and play a little."

I eyed the rack of guitars that lined the same wall as the door we'd just come through. "What do you play?" I asked, reaching out to touch the strings on the closest guitar. It was a tattered thing, but plastered with stickers and obviously well used.

"A little guitar, but nothing serious. I tend to sing more than anything," he answered without looking up from the junk stuffed into the nightstand.

"What are you looking for?" I asked as he huffed and pushed the drawer closed in defeat. I stepped back so that I was leaning against the doorway and practically jumped out of my skin when the rumored cat brushed against my leg.

Gerard looked back to me at the sound of a couple of curse words leaving my mouth. When he saw that it was just the cat, he grinned at me. "I thought I left a necklace here the last time I stayed," he answered my question, "I wanted to give it back to Lindsey, but I think I actually fucking lost it."

"Why do you have to give it back?"

"Why do you have to ask so many questions?" he countered, stepping around the annoyingly positioned table, "But because she spent a lot of money on it and I don't want it anymore," he answered despite his own words.

He let out a defeated sigh and took another look around the room as though the necklace would be sitting there waiting for him to discover it. When it was, he shrugged and shook his head.
"Do you want to get out of here?" he asked, turning his attention back to me, "Sorry to make you wait, I'm sure you're starving, I just wanted to grab the computer while we're out here."

"I don't mind," I answered, gingerly stepping over the cat as she meowed and tried to follow Gerard out of the room.

Being here was experiencing another side to Gerard. He wasn't quite so controlled or calculating. He walked through the apartment without a care and easily felt at home. It was a different kind of comfortable than I'd seen in him at his parents' house. This time it was as though he was his own person, as though he owned a part of this place and didn't have to worry about anybody else's rules or concerns. There was a sense of liberation in him.

I almost didn't want to leave.

He headed back out to the living room and maneuvered through the junk on the floor, cursing slightly when he stumbled over a pile of movies just to the left of the glass coffee table. The dog watched lazily from the couch as Gerard bounded past him, calling a goodbye.

"Cy, there's a really good Chinese place around the corner if you're interested," he said over his shoulder as he moved around the corner into the kitchen for something else, "They're not too pricey either."

"Okay." I nodded, reached to run my fingers into the dog's fur as I walked past and listened to the sound of the fridge open. I folded my arms over my chest as Gerard came around to face me, the laptop case dangling from his finger tips as he offered me a pop. I took it from him as I added, "We could just order in and eat here. It would mean that I wouldn't have to risk driving anywhere else with you."

He pressed his palm into the spot over his heart. "Ouch, Sugar," he mumbled, doubling over as though I'd shot him.

"I mean, if you don't want to that's fine, I just thought I better show some concern for my own life," I said, "I do have a child to think about."

He straightened out and pressed his lips together. "It's whatever you want to do," he said nonchalantly, "I think we've got the number in one of the drawers. Hang on." Unlike the attempt in the bedroom, it only took him a second to pluck the menu from one of the drawers in the kitchen. He handed it to me when he reemerged and kicked his shoes off, making himself at home.

"Pick something," he said as he dropped down onto the couch and shooed the dog away so that I could do the same, "and then I'll call and order. I'm starving."

We had food delivered within a half an hour and we settled down among the mess to eat and watch something on TV. Gerard flipped channels continuously, complaining about just about everything like he'd done with the radio in my car. He seemed to have a very narrow taste in things and he wasn't afraid to show it.

"Come on, Gerard," I shouted, outraged, as he groaned and quickly flipped past the Maury show, "You can't hate this show. It's hilarious. I feel so bad for all these morons."

"I find them annoying," he answered, holding the remote out in the other direction so that I couldn't pull it from his fingertips, "They're just a bunch of idiots who are wasting everyone's time with their idiotic problems."

"That's why it's entertaining," I argued, setting my food down on the cluttered table so that I could reach and yank the remote from him, "Their lives are worse than ours."

He held his box of food in one hand and the remote in the other and gave me a look that dared me to challenge him. He continued changing the channel as I grabbed for it, my fingers grasping his bare arm as I tried to pull it towards me.

"Cyren, knock it off, you're going to spill," he rebutted, setting the box of chicken and rice between his cross legs. He used his free hand to push me backwards, hoping to topple me back into my spot.

"Then pick something," I answered, swiping for it.

"I have a human right to channel surf," he argued stubbornly, "So sit down and enjoy the plentitude of shows I'm blessing you with."

I sat down and gave him a look. He grinned and licked over his bottom lip after quickly stuffing another bite of food into his mouth. "If I give you the remote," he said between chewing, "What are you going to do for me?"

"Chugger, attack!" I called to the dog who had moved from the couch to the oversized arm chair by the TV. The large dog simply opened his eyes and looked to Gerard, who was feeding himself another bite.

"That's a shitty plan," Gerard commented, looking between me and the dog, "He's a lover, not a fighter."

"Fine, you win," I gave in. I pulled my food from the coffee table and turned my attention to the channel that he had stopped on randomly. It was an old soap and I turned my full attention to it. "This acting is just terrible," I complained without looking away, "These people should be ashamed of themselves."

When Gerard didn't reply or turn the channel, I turned and looked at him. Even though I wasn't surprised that he was looking at me, my heart started beating a hundred miles an hour and I turned my eyes back to the television.

He chuckled lightly and flipped the channel back to Maury before dropping the remote in my lap. "You win," he said, lifting his food from between his crossed legs.

I tried to hide my smile by pushing my lips together. "Thank you," I said, turning to look at him again. This time, he leaned over and kissed me, surprising me seeing as I hadn't even fully turned my attention from the show before his mouth was on mine and his hand was reaching up to cup my jaw, his Chinese once again forgotten.

Slowly, I reached forward and set mine on the table and he fumbled for his, following suit. When the food was out of the way, he turned his body just slightly and was pressing his shoulder into me. My fingers found his hair and I tangled them there, lost in the feeling of his mouth on mine and the silkiness of his frequently dyed strands.

He pulled back to breathe and I sucked in a deep breath, opening my eyes to look at him as he pressed his thumb into my bottom lip, breathing heavy.

His eyes blinked open and then we were looking at each other. "We shouldn't do this," he whispered, eyes peering into mine, "I don't want to move too fast."

I nodded.

He leaned forward just the fraction of an inch that it took and we were kissing again. This time I pulled my fingers from his hair and cupped the base of his neck, enthralled by the feeling of his skin and his mouth on mine.

His hand left my face and trailed down my arm until his fingers were pressing into my side, slowly rucking my shirt up so that his skin was on mine. I didn't stop him as he pressed forward and put his weight on me. Now I was laying on the couch and his body was over mine, his hand just barely inside my shirt - his fingers on my stomach, his legs tangled with mine.

I wrapped my arms around his neck and looked at him. He didn't feel like hardly anything on top of me, partially due to him holding himself up but also because he was painfully perfect. His waist was slender and his entire body was slim. It was as though he was suspended above me. I moved my hand over his shoulder and down his back, feeling his shoulder blades and the leanness of his muscles.

The last time I had been with somebody, even in such a minuscule way, it had been for the act of it, rather than for the idea of each other. This time felt different, as though just touching his skin was enough. We weren't here because we wanted something out of it or expected certain acts, it was simply because we were certain people. Because this was him.

His mouth lingered on mine, coming back again and again as he pressed his fingers into my side and his lips against my collarbone. I touched his face and his back and his hair and it excited me and I never wanted to pull away.

His mouth was the sweetest thing I'd tasted in a long time and I couldn't get enough of him. There was no reasoning as to why I couldn't keep away from him. Neither of us was making any effort to explain it and despite what I had told him before about staying away, there would be no arguing with him when he would come back around again. This time though, I doubted I would ask him to leave.

We separated ourselves after a few more minutes, deciding that it was good for both of our morals and self-control if we stopped then rather than testing ourselves. But that didn't stop our conversation from raging ahead.

"So Mitchell is the only guy you've ever…" he trailed off, his hazel eyes meeting mine as he waited for my awkward answer.

"Yeah," I confirmed, not daring to mention that he was actually only the second person I'd ever kissed and that the first one had been due to someone else's dare when I was thirteen years old. "What about you?" I asked, figuring that if my sexual relationships were open for conversation than so were his.

"Uhh…" he trailed off, blinking towards another direction like usually did when he was thinking real hard, "One in high school," he answered, "and a couple after that."

"Lindsey," I said, watching as he nodded.

"Yeah, we met a year or so ago at a comic book store," he said, staring off towards the television as he spoke, almost like he was trying to recall the words to say about her, "She's a really cool girl. Super into the same things and gets along great with the guys. Even plays with the band sometimes."

"Sounds perfect," I answered, tucking my hair back as I looked at him. This was the first time that I felt younger than him, too young. The way he talked about her made me feel out of my element, like I was a child pretending to be someone who could actually understand the dating world. I pulled my feet up onto the couch and wrapped my arms around my knees, waiting for Gerard to say something else.

"She's great," he said without turning his gaze back to me, "but I don't know. There's just something that's keeping me from wanting to be with her like that - even before I met you." He turned his multi-colored eyes and looked at me, waiting for some semblance of a reply.

"I don't see how I make a difference," I replied, wondering what he saw in me that would keep him sitting here with me.

The way he grinned I knew that he knew something I didn't. "I can't believe that you don't see it, Cyren," he said, his eyes staring at me like they were studying my thoughts rather than my appearance.

"There's nothing to see," I answered, trying to give him the same look he was giving me and failing miserably.

He licked his lips and pressed them together with the shake of his head, obviously unwilling to admit that his view of something special in me was fabricated. "Believe what you want, but there's something there that you're unaware of," he commented before turning his attention back to the show. "Where's the remote?"

I glanced around the area near us and frowned. "Uhh…" I muttered, reaching between the cushions and coming back empty-handed, "I don't know."

Gerard sighed. "Okay, but Bob's gonna be pissed and I am not taking the blame for this. It's all on you, Cyren."

My jaw dropped at his apathy. "We'll be gone before they get back, won't we?" I asked as my train of thought jumped to that.

Gerard glanced towards the clock hanging on the wall and then he shrugged. "I doubt it."

"Why is that?" I asked nervously, my insides twisting up at the thought of them walking in with us sitting here.

He turned his eyes back to me finally and answered, "because either one of them should be back any minute now."

Instead of forcing him up from the couch and out of the house, I just reached for my abandoned box of Chinese and said, "Ohh," as I pretended that my heart hadn't actually stopped beating for a moment.