Never Let Go

Gerard’s head was pounding. It didn’t stem from a hangover or dehydration, or an ailment like a little cold or a full blown flu. It wasn’t too hot in the office, or stuffy, or anything like that, that was making little beads of sweat cling to his forehead. His fists were clenched tightly, resisting the urge to punch the arrogant man in front of him.

“Are. You. Fucking. Kidding. Me?”

The words were hissed, low and venomous, and Owen was cringing and taking a minute step backwards in fear. Everyone knew that Gerard was a nice guy, but they also knew there was a nasty temper under his normal courteous, polite and pleasant demeanour. It was one of those things that had only been glimpsed at, when an intern was calling in sick, and Gerard was stuck with extra work. It was seen when Owen was too polite to tell an intern that they couldn’t leave early, or when he was covering his own ass to the detriment of a hard working colleague. Gerard would glare, narrow his eyes, and shake his head in a way that showed his exasperation. Nobody had seen this, though. The office was quiet, and a pin dropping could have been heard from a mile away. The tension was heavy, and everyone in the office just wished they could disappear. It was like waiting for a bomb to go off, watching the seconds tick down to the inevitable explosion.

Gerard, for his part, had never been this angry. Not in work, at least. He couldn’t believe the words that had come out of Owen’s mouth. His eyebrow was raised in incredulous distaste at the asshat standing beside his cubicle, whose cheerful smile was wiped off his face when faced with Gerard’s palpable anger.

.”Gerard, let’s be professional about this, don’t forget-“

“Professional? You want to talk about professionalism? You come to me, ask me to cover your ass, because yet again your incompetency is threatening yet another project? I worked on those drawings for days. Now, because you failed to communicate the briefing properly, when that’s the only job your lazy ass is capable of, you want me to take the fall for your negligence that’s leading to another delay? It’s bad enough that myself, and the rest of the team, have spent days doing story boards for a comic, that are now useless, and which we now have to redo. I’m not letting you drag my ass down with you. This is your responsibility. I’m sick of picking up after your shit, Owen. Just because you’re cosy with the boss, doesn’t mean you get to pass the buck, because you can’t do your fucking job.”

Owen stared at him blankly, completely thrown by Gerard’s sudden aggression. Gerard’s fist was curled tightly, resting on top of his desk, and shaking as though it was begging to be let loose.

“If I were you, I’d be thinking of ways to explain to the boss how you fucked up one of our biggest seller’s next issue deadline, after I explain how exactly this came about,” Gerard continued, unable to stop himself now that he was on a roll and finally letting his feelings out, “Let’s see if your job is so cushy after that.”

With that, Gerard turned his back on Owen, dismissing him. The silence in the office lingered, uncomfortably hanging in the air like a thick cloud that left everyone feeling slightly suffocated and desperate to leave. Gerard ignored it, and Owen’s occasional glance in his direction while he panicked over how to get himself out of another mess. This was the second time Owen had screwed up this particular comic's deadline. The creator was a big shot, a well known name that was selling issues faster than any of their other stuff. Owen, however, hadn’t briefed the team properly on the specifics, and Gerard could only hope it wouldn’t affect the rest of them.

Gerard was pissed, and he was really in need of some fucking alcohol to ease his desire to take the edge off his frustration. There was only one person who he wanted to drown his sorrow with, and it wasn’t Lindsey. It’s been almost a year since Gerard had met Frank, and in that time Frank had, dare Gerard say, become his best friend. They hung out on Saturdays, under the pretence of guitar lessons, which was really an excuse to watch movies and drink beers without Jamia hanging around. They had built quite a friendship, and it was one Gerard appreciated, especially in recent months. Between work driving him insane, and Lindsey’s desire for more commitment, it was one of the few things he could look forward to these days. It was why he was picking up his phone, with his breathing still a little heavier than normal, and creating a new message.

‘McGills at 6’ was all he wrote.

Frank was slouching in his chair, watching the levels, while some wanna be punk kids were thrashing around, recording their first album. Frank got along with most of the bands that came in, and in the eighteen months he’d been working in the studio, he had met a few well known bands. He had moved up the ladder a little bit, going from a poorly paid intern, to a better paid ‘jack of all trades’ guy. He did a little bit of everything, but now he spent most of his time in the recording station, mixing the levels. He was still amazed that he was able to live his dream somewhat. Sure, he wasn’t running his own label as of yet, or producing, but it was still more than what most people who worked behind the scenes in a studio achieved. Life was good at the moment, and he really didn’t have much to complain about. Him and Jamia were still good, and now they had more money he was beginning to think about marriage. They were together long enough for him to envision it happening.

His phone was in his pocket, as always, when it buzzed. Frank kept his eyes on the levels in front of him, though, he knew the text would either be from Jamia or Gerard, and both could wait for a reply. He’d forgotten all about the text message by the time the track was laid down, and it was a matter of chance that he looked at his phone at five forty five.

Gerard :‘McGills at 6’

Frank sighed, not particularly in the mood to go boozing, not when he was back in the studio at eight the next morning. He couldn’t shake the feeling something was wrong, though, and normally his instincts were quite good. He typed a quick message, informing Gerard he’d meet him there, but he’d be late. He then texted Jamia, letting her know he’d be home late. By the time he made it to the bar, it was twenty five past six. He spotted Gerard easily, sitting at the bar with the moodiest expression Frank had ever seen. He pondered whether it was safe to even approach Gerard, considering the murderous look on his face. Frank just prayed he would never be on the receiving end of such a look. Gerard must have felt Frank’s gaze, and he waved the smaller man over when he saw him. Frank took the seat beside him, and was pleased to see a beer was already waiting for him. Gerard’s bottle was nearly empty, and Frank wondered just what the hell had gotten Gerard into such a foul mood.

“Fucking Owen, man. I swear to God, one day I’m gonna punch that son of a bitch,” Gerard informed Frank before he asked, he promptly swallowed the last of his beer. He waved to the barman, ordering another beer.

“What did he do now?” Frank asked, unsure if he really wanted to know, but he knew Gerard needed to vent.

“Oh, the fucking usual.His incompetency shows no bounds. Fucker gave us the wrong briefing for the next edition of one of our biggest sellers. Which means we now have to redraw the whole edition, and he wanted me to take the fall. Fucking douche.” Gerard spat, making Frank recoil slightly.

“Dude, why haven’t you said anything to the boss?” Frank asked.

“I did. After I chewed Owen out in front of the entire office. The boss is gonna retire in the next year or so, and there’s no way Owen is capable of taking over, like he wants. Fuck him. I could do the job better than him.”

“What did the boss say?”

“Just that there’d be a meeting. I’ve no idea what that entails, but I’m beyond caring. I’m so close to handing in my notice. The place is going to go under soon, if things don’t change. The boss doesn’t give a shit anymore. The place needs new blood.”

“Maybe you should run the place,” Frank joked, taking a sip a beer.

“Damn right I should. Fucking interns calling in sick all the time, and supervisors who can’t even get their shit right. I swear, if I ever ran the place, I’d fucking ban sick days.”

“Thank fuck you’ll never be my boss.”

Gerard was about to snap, but once he saw the playful smirk on Frank’s face, he couldn’t help but giggle. Frank found the laughter infectious, and soon he was joining in too. Their eyes met, and Frank felt his stomach flip. He almost choked on his beer from the suddenness of the feeling. He shrugged it off, putting it down to gas or something, like he did every time it happened, which just happened to be when he was around Gerard.

“Whatever. I’d be a fucking awesome boss. I just won’t take any shit.”

The murderous scowl was gone from Gerard’s face, and Frank was strangely proud that it was him that had cheered Gerard up. So what if he was the one that had made Gerard smile? It wasn’t a big deal, it was what friends did. So why did he suddenly have a desire to blush under Gerard’s eyes, which were still gazing at Frank, while he took another long gulp of his beer. Frank felt the sudden need to break the eye contact, which he did smoothly by taking another drink of beer.

“You know, I think you’re the only person who could have made me fucking laugh right now.” Gerard spoke with a causal indifference he didn’t feel. Part of him knew it should be Lindsey he went to when he needed comfort, but lately it had been Frank who was doing that job, unknowingly. Gerard assumed it was to do with familiarity, similarity and a need for male company. He wasn’t going to question it, or over-think it.

Frank didn’t know what to say to Gerard’s statement. He felt that strange pull in his stomach again, which got stronger every time it happened. He was thankful when Gerard started talking again, disguising the underlying awkward tension that was beginning to seep in between them. By the time they left, Frank had pushed it to the back of mind, and when he entered his apartment, he wasted no time in pinning Jamia to the couch, losing himself in her body and letting the tension seep away.