Épousez-moi, Restez la Même Chose

Despite the initial weirdness of living with someone--really, Gerard had had so much experience with that, it shouldn't have been as hard as it was--the first few weeks of...um, maritial bliss went off without a hitch. Waking up next to someone curled up underneath his chin stopped being uncomfortable and claustrophobic. For the most part. There was still that moment every once in a while as he waited for wiL to wake up where he would feel around the covers and his hand would hit wiL's back and his chest would clench up, cave in on itself and for a few blinding seconds he would be caught in the grip of panic. Put to the soundtrack of voices going off in his head--mainly the scariest ones. You know, married, forever, stuck--god, married, again. That one stuck out most vibrantly. Of course, he was just being irrational and he knew it. There was no way he was actually married to wiL. First off, he never signed anything, and second, gay-marriage was still a hot-button issue in most states. Gerard didn't really know what Maine's laws were regarding gay marriage or domestic partnerships, but a sinking feeling told him that they were one of the lenient states. Another sinking feeling--oh, he could compare it to the fucking Titanic, but he won't because he hates that stupid movie and his emotions should only be compared to the coolest movies (Okay, he could compare his feelings to the Starship Enterprize crashing into the Justice League Satellite)--was insisting that his brother's handwriting looked painfully close to his. And Mikey Way was a sadistic little bitch.

But then wiL would roll over in his sleep and jar Gerard's thoughts. And that was pretty fucking scary too, that Gerard's thoughts could be completely disentegrated just by glancing down at wiL's partially open mouth and his pink dusted eyelids and the dark curls that littered his forehead. Sometimes Gerard would think about stealing a kiss because--hell, it's not like wiL would mind. WiL was a sweetheart and he was always pecking Gerard's cheek for one reason or another, so it would be recriprocal to kiss him. But Gerard didn't because.

Because he didn't.

Because that would mean that he wanted to kiss wiL, and he still wasn't sure on what ground he stood with that issue. For his whole life he. Messed around a little, yeah, but never actually entertained that idea that he could spend the rest of his life with a boy. It wasn't like that. He never wanted to be part of THAT couple, you know, the one that, even thought it was the 21st century and homophobia had gotten a lot less frequent, was still so weird to see. They stuck out so much it was pathetic. Gerard didn't want to stick out. He didn't want people coming up to him and asking who was the girl in the relationship with those stupid pats on the back that hurt but are supposed to be friendly.

Messing around was okay in his mind, it was all just fun. So he kissed Adam a few times, no big deal. Neither of them gave a shit because--fuck, girls did the same thing! He knew it, because he's had girlfriends before and they all liked to brag about how they'd kissed girls before at slumber parties or behind the building at school just because. It was easy to kiss friends.

Like it was easy to kiss Frank. Because Frank's married. There was no commitment issues with kissing Frank or Adam or Bert because that's what some guys do. It's all in good fun. But if Gerard kissed wiL, it would be something different, because they haven't known each other long enough to laugh it off, and neither of them drank so no alcohol or stimulating drug could take the blame.

Plus we're married...

*

The view was the selling point of Gerard's house, honest-to-god. Brian had picked out a few houses for Gerard to take a look at, all of them situated in the same little culdesac of wherever, Maine that he was--he really needed to check what the name of his town was, one day when he's done being a retard. The first two were nice...nice. Yeah. And Gerard had always wanted a nice house. Sure, he liked his basement, but--after living in puke and dark and squallor and a number of things that just came from being an all around weirdo, he wanted to start fresh. He wanted to be able to look out his window and see a fucking lawn. It didn't have to have a funny mailbox or be a fucking botanical garden, but he wanted it to look nice. He was filled with a need to just be a little bit normal for once and not put giant action figures out in the grass or paint the outside of his house black. He wanted to blend in.

The first two houses were nice. The third, his home, was nice sprinkled with a balcony that overlooked the sea.

Growing up in Jersey, water wasn't...it just wasn't. You didn't drink from it, you didn't touch it, and you certainly didn't think it was beautiful. It was just there. It was deep pools of gray flooded with sticks and algae and snakes. Not even poets could make them sound anything other than...water. Gross water that no one really wanted to step in or look at or smell.

Now, Gerard had in firm belief that Maine water was fucking magical fairy tears. With sparkles. Shiny sparkles.

*

He leaned back in his chair and looked out from his balcony, gripping his wet-with-condensation glass tighter in his hand and with the other lighting the cigarette perched between his lips. He'd almost quit, actually. He was down to three a day. One in the morning, one after lunch, and one...dispersed at another time during the day, but it certainly wasn't fucking cliche like just before bed.

The sunlight poured itself down on his face and arms and the tops of his thighs, warming him from the inside while he took a sip of his pink lemonade. With his eyelids just barely squeezed open he watched the open waves slosh together and break on the rocky shore.

He had a fucking shore. Okay, so he didn't own it, but whenever he wanted to, he could go down there and walk. Sitting perched on top of the rocks at low tide was his muse. As was wiL, secretly. He liked watching wiL play 'don't let the water touch you because it's highly corrosive acid that will eat away your foot and confine you to a meaningless life in the seat of a wheelchair forever'. Gabriel had told him in recent days that his new comic was taking 'optimistic turns'.

Soon his eyelids became too heavy to keep open and he let them fall closed, just listening to the sounds of the sea and in the background the noise of wiL singing in French while he was down in the garden, probably talking to the plants that he had named. He half-wished that wiL would come upstairs and onto the balcony with him so he could scoot a chair close and lay his head on his shoulder and listen to him sing and actually hear it. They did that, sometimes, just like it was such a normal thing to do. WiL's hand would pet at Gerard's hair and he would sing him songs about the silliest things, Gerard knew because wiL had told him--attempted to, his English was alot better but still...--what most of the songs were about. But he knew that wiL was kind of busy with his horticulture, and he couldn't always have him around when he wanted to.

His breathing evened out slowly as his thoughts began to turn into mush and the crashing waves just got louder and the very air seemed wettened with freshness. It was like standing next to a waterfall and letting the soft wash that radiated off the water fill your brain. Everything just--got clearer but went away. It was a little frustrating, to Gerard, that he knew he could think his best during these brief spells of fresh if only he could bring himself to work his brain towards anything other than being contented. He could probably even write a whole song in those few minutes--but it wouldn't really be My Chemical Romance material. More like--the tempo of Bright Eyes mixed with words from Tegan and Sara. A completely sappy song about how he's okay. Or, more like in love but not with a person, more like in love with life.

Yeah, yeah. Gerard was in love with life. Maybe he could start a side project--the anti-Leathermouth. The happy side of being alive. He'd already done supernatural creatures, losing your loved ones and dying, so why not happy?

Oh right. Fans.

Teenage girls don't want to hear about how good life is. Riiight. He very well couldn't make a song about the pink plastic flamingo in his neighbor's yard and expect to be taken seriously.

He thought his fresh edge was starting to slip piece by piece, because his ear wasn't cool anymore--

"Dormez-vous, Gerard?" A playful voice asked into the shell of his ear and his eyes snapped open. He tilted his head back all the way until he was met with wiL's smile.

"No, I was just--thinking with my eyes closed."

"Theenking about wha?" wiL asked, wincing at his own terrible accent. He went around the chair until he was standing in front of Gerard, still grinning down at him. Little dark tendrils of bangs fell past his nose, brushing it softly and making him scrunch up his face a little before puffing at them.

Gerard let a smile invade his mouth, really couldn't help it because there was no way he could be moody now, and held out both hands in an open gesture. "About...nothing," he said softly as wiL got comfortable in his lap, tucking his legs under Gerard's, clutching at the front of his shirt and nosing into his neck. It was all really normal. *cough*

Gerard let his hand rest at wiL's back, thumbing over his shirt slowly and hoping to make wiL dazed just like he was. If there's anything better than being in a sweet daze, it's being in a sweet daze with someone else. Judging from the happy little sounds wiL was making into his ear and the small kisses to his cheek and neck and shoulder, wiL was on his way to a sweet daze.

"Mmm, sleepy, Gerard?" asked wiL, lifting his head from it's spot on Gerard's shoulder and leaving a cold spot.

"A little."

"J'également."

Another of those terrifying moments could have happened--definitely would have happened, if Gerard wasn't so relaxed--over the thought that Gerard was starting to understand alot of the French that wiL said. Also, that wiL was understanding English. That they were understanding each other and would one day have an actual conversation.

*

Click.

"Aww, Mikey, lookit! Aren't they just--aww. I never thought your brother could be anything remotely close to cute, but aww!"

Gerard officially hated his sister-in-law. One, for waking him with her high-pitched girlish squealing that any other time she would whole heartedly deny she EVER does, and two, for having a camera. WiL stirred awake in his arms and blinked up at Gerard owlishly for a moment, like he always does (oh god, shoot me now, I know what he looks like first thing when he wakes up was Gerard sentiments on this) and smiled, albeit confusedly. He turned around in Gerard's lap and, unfortunately, saw Alicia, and--

"Licia!" he squealed, jumping out of Gerard's lap to throw his arms around her neck and be cuddled mercilessly.

"WiL! Oh, I've missed you so much!"

Mikey edged closer to his brother and leaned down. "She knitted him a sweater."

"Another one?" Gerard asked increduously. This made the third one.

"With green dinosaurs on it. I feel sorry for the kid."

"...nah, don't. He actually loves his sweaters. Apparently, although they are hideously uncool, they're really comfortable."

A few meters away, wiL and Alicia were busy animatedly trying to have a girl fit, or something. Which involved alot of jumping and holding each other by the forearms.

"God Alicia, man up!" Gerard called, immediately regretting it, because she stopped and levelled him with a stare. A 'hell hath no fury like an Alicia distracted from her precious wiL' stare.

"You know what, Mikey, never mind what I said about your brother, he is a bitch. A mean bitch. And I hate him, and that's it, we're adopting--"

"We're not adopting anyone over the age of twenty, babe."

"...can we adopt Ryan Ross? And then replace him with wiL so that Gerard can be all 'creepy pedophile loser' and I can have wiL?"

Mikey raised his eyebrows at her. "We'll think about it. In the meantime, Gerard..." He cut himself off and looked over at his older brother a little hesitantly. This didn't garner much optimism from Gerard. "Um..."

"What, Mikey?" Gerard asked irritably. It was just starting to catch up to him that he was awoken from a really nice nap and now his lap was cold and his brother was stupid and married an evil woman.

"I may have let it slip to Mom that you're married to a boy."