Found Missing

When the reality of what I'm doing strikes me, I don't stop. When the realisation of how wrong this should feel sinks in, I still can't stop. The fact that I want to kiss him should be more than enough to push Gerard away but, still, I don't stop.

Hungry moans slammed together, needy fingertips in places they should not be, movements becoming more frantic by the second.

I wish my chest wouldn't thrive over the way his crotch is pressed indecently to my own. I wish my thighs would stop quaking with how his mouth is working on my sweet spot. This is Gerard; Martha's Gerard, the boy I'm supposed to detest.

Detest. The word has been irrelevant for a while now. I think I stopped despising Gerard when I recognized the red in his eyes, I became fond of him when I found him downing tequila in the dark. Perhaps he became fond of me after pancakes and sleet, before vodka and roundabouts.

After that I don't see Gerard until New Year's eve. I leave the house to buy milk for Anne, when I open the front door I find him pacing the length of her lawn.

"I wasn't sure if-I didn't know if you wanted-" He stammers.
"I'm not gonna' bite you, Gerard." I mutter.
"That kinda' contradicts your actions from the other night." He somehow grins sheepishly through his embarrassment, I hang my face behind my hair through my own.
"Anyway." He diverts the subject fast. "Mikey said there's some gathering at the fun fair tonight. I was wondering if you, well-"
"Wanted to come?"
"Yea. For New Year's, it's a New Year's celebration kinda' thing, it'll be just like last year."

I try to shrug it off, but I'm sure my apprehensiveness shows when Gerard rolls his eyes.

"Elfie, I'm not asking you out. I just thought it'd be a laugh, that's all."
"I know. Of course. I mean why would you ask me out? That would be, like, totally weird. Why would you even do that? I don't know..." I blab awkwardly, speech trailing off when he wrinkles his nose.

"Whatever. I'll pick you up tonight, wear something warm."

With that he shoves his hands into his pockets and he walks away. I watch him leave through the late morning fog, wondering why my cheeks are burning in such bitter air.

*

The New Year hits us with a gaggle of shrieking teenagers and a firework dusted sky. My company jeers and claps, friends tackle each other with drunken embraces and couples share saliva. It seems as if everyone has lost interest in Martha and how Vince O'donnel is still the suspected, missing, culprit. Maybe this is because her memory has been tainted. She wasn't the angel we thought her to be.

"What were you doing this time last year?" I ask Gerard.
"Last year I was sitting on this same log, in front of this same bonfire, drinking the same brand of vodka, watching my brother gallivant around with girls he doesn't even know; exactly the same as this year." He sighs. "Only last year Martha was gallivanting around with him, mocking him, obviously." He turns to face me, expression quirking when he catches my eye. "If I remember correctly you were chasing her, trying to get her to keep her top on - always the boring one."
"I'd like to say responsible, actually." I nudge his ribs and he cracks a laugh. "Besides, she would've been lost without me. She was a drunken mess that night."
"We've found out since that she was a lot of other things."

I'm not sure how to respond to this, so I don't. Instead I watch Mikey push up his glasses again as he attempts to lock lips with a girl he met just tonight.

"For your younger brother, Mikey has a lot more confidence than you."
I realize this sounds more like an insult than anything else.
"I don't mean it in a bad way." I say quickly.
"It's fine." He shrugs. "He just likes people more than I do. It's not a big deal."
"You don't like people?"
"Not really."

I'm starting to realize that we have more in common than I'd thought.

I'm not reminded of our kiss, not by words, anyway. The way he bites his lip on the off occasion is more than a reminder, however. The way his fingers are often pushed through his tattered hair is enough to make me wish he'd do the same to mine.

My desire is indulged when our mouths clumsily clash on the ghost train, hasty hands finding their way below jean-buttons in the neon dark.

"Your neck tastes like cocoa." He giggles behind my ear and I struggle to stifle a moan.

I think it's best to go home after this, kicking myself for being nowhere near as drunk for anything to be slightly excusable. I decide to leave before he has the chance to take me any further, hating myself for knowing that given the choice, I would let him.

After that I don't see Gerard for five days. I'm not sure if he's left me alone because I told him to or because he wants to. Maybe it's because I'm avoiding him, I don't know. Maybe it's because he knows as much as I do how downright strange it is to be tonsil licking the new year in when only in October we could barely stand each other's company.

I've spent the last five days waking up in a pensive state, smothered in sweat and doused with guilt. I wonder what Martha would think if she could see what was happening. The Martha I knew would be stern but soft. She'd put me in my place and somehow manage to make me feel less liable for, however how clueless, perusing her boyfriend. I wonder if the Martha I didn't know ever once felt culpable for betraying Gerard.

I wonder how Gerard feels.

I'm yet again reminded that I haven't asked Gerard how he feels. The subject is off topic yet inevitable at the same time. I can't imagine a way to bring it up when we've only just managed to find a common ground. It's as if we've gone from one extreme to the other in a forlorn desperation.

I think that's all it is; loneliness. Loneliness and desperation. That's all it has to be, it can't be anything else, it certainly can't be anything more. When a kiss becomes more than a isolated act of boredom is when everything often becomes complicated - I don't think complications and Gerard make for a solid mix.