Found Missing

The last thing I expect to do is tussle against the dirt ground, especially with a boy who had made such an ambiguous statement less than half an hour ago. It is happening, however, and I am longing for the ability to neglect it.

Gerard gasps something into the crook of my neck. It's incoherent, I'm sure, whatever it is becomes muffled by the heavily growing rattle of rain over the yew tree.
It's the sudden pressure of the January downpour that causes my skin to break into goosebumps, that or maybe it's his warm moan against my jawline.

"Gerard..." I have to bite my lip hard before I let him roll over my tongue. I know that if I even dare to sing his name out loud then this will all become too real and I'm sure reality is pulling my clutch to deeper places than his waistline.

"Stop." I say instead. I'm almost disappointed when he does stop, panting deliciously against my mouth, irritation drowning his tone.

"What?"

I sigh, exasperated, and shuffle ungracefully beneath his weight.

"This." I say. His expression grows frustrated with my lack of explanation, even though I'm sure it must be obvious.

"Care to expand?"

"This, Gerard. Us, this. What is this?"

There's a pause until I'm given my answer, and afterward I feel more lost for words than I had been before.

"It's whatever we want it to be."

I study him in the deep navy cast; I try to search for something in his dilated pupils as I feel mine grow doe.

"But what do we want it to be?"

Finally, for what I think is the first time, I watch him soften at my naivety and he scoops me up from the soil, pulling me to nest in the cross of his ripped up jeans. I become putty as I curl into his arms, oddly safe in the way he feels so warm.

"I'm so confused." I hear myself squeak, immediately disgusted by how pitiful I sound. Gerard doesn't seem to care, or even notice for that matter, but merely rests his chin atop of my head and tucks his hands into the pockets of my coat.

"Just stop thinking so much, Elfie. Just let it be."

*

I think it must be the drowsy cling of Vodka drowning my thoughts, because suddenly Gerard's voice is the only sound I want to hear. I'm not drunk, not like I had been before Christmas at least. I'm playfully merry, as is Gerard. It's nice, I think, to talk to him without the harsh drone of reality or the intoxicated inability to make sense of a single word he says.

He sighs, glass bottle lip clanking quietly against his teeth. "I just wanna' be something, y'know?" He mutters from his bedroom floor. "I just wanna' make a difference."

"You'll find a way." I say from my place next to him. "You've got a talent with this art game."

"You really think I can do it?"

I tilt my head to look at him; pale face highlighted by the streetlamp outside. "I think you can do anything, Gerard."

He smiles and I feel silly for how my heart is beating faster.

"Martha used to talk about how great of an artist you are, Elfie." He tells me. "Maybe that's why she thought we'd make for good friends."

"Maybe."

"I feel bad now." He sighs again. "I never really gave much notice for anything you did before. I don't know why."

I shrug. "You don't need to feel bad."

His eyes catch mine and I can feel his fingers tracing the inside of my wrist. I wonder when our bodies became so close.

"What do you want to know?" I ask. "Earlier on, in the cemetery, you asked me to tell you something about myself. What do you want to know?"

His eyes narrow. "I thought you didn't want to scare me."

"I don't, but I'd like to trust you."

I shift closer across the carpet until the ends of his hair can tickle my cheek and I can smell cigarettes and wash-powder.

"When I was seven my school teacher asked me to tell the class what I perceived as beautiful." I begin to tell him. "I said death. My grandfather had died the year before and we were allowed to wear only bright colours to his funeral. It was November but the church looked like summer, everything was beautiful. I made the other children cry and from that moment I knew I wasn't right."

Even in the dark I can see his hazels grow shy, and then he whispers "Elfie, you don't have to prove yourself-"

"I do though, Gerard. I've never told anyone that before and maybe I am a little drunk, but I trust you." I lace my fingers with his. "And I want you to trust me, too. I'm not scared."

I can hear nothing but the distant hum of his brothers play-station from the room above us, and for the longest moment my heart drops. Then Gerard pulls my hand tight to his chest and squeezes so hard I wonder if I'll ever get it back.

"When I was younger my night terrors were so bad I decided to drink enough cough medicine to knock myself out. Now I have to swallow anxiety relief just to make it through a normal day. Sometimes-" He pauses, swallowing, bottom lip hitched between his front teeth. "Sometimes I scrape my knuckles down the garden wall because it calms me down, does that not scare you?"

I've always wondered why his knuckles are permanently raw, I guess I should have known better.

"No." I state, simply, honestly. "Nothing you can say or do will scare me, Gerard. I've seen it all already."

He takes a shaky breath, tugging me even closer to his side. "We're the same; you and me. I can't believe it's taken me three years to see it."

He stares at me in such a way that should feel unsettling, all I can feel is a surge of wanton in the pits of my belly. I can't believe I've only just realized it either.

"Two terribly real people in a terribly false world."