Once Upon A Time, Back In Highschool

I had told my parents I was sleeping around my friend’s house, ‘Heather’. Mum even had the guts to say I didn’t even have friends, so how come this sudden Heather girl wanted me round. I held my tongue though. I came up with a long story about how I’d met up with her loads but I hadn’t time to tell them because they were always busy with each other and work, I think they felt guilty.

I had rung dad from Gerard’s mobile at his office, that way he’d pretty much have to say yes, he’d be to busy to fight with me.

“This Friday,” dad said, “Okay fine, what time?”

“Uh… I haven’t found that out yet –but I will in soon,” I told him, tugging a tangle out of my hair, “Okay, so I’m going. I’ll probably be back around 4pm on Saturday, I’ll ring you, alright?” I said, clicking the black mobile shut.

“It’s on?” Gerard asked.

“That it is,” I replied, handing his phone back to him.

I had actually ended up going clothes shopping with Gerard that Wednesday. I went to the shopping centre on my own, hoping to find something vaguely nice for Six6Six, of course I ended up in HMV looking at a David Bowie C.d instead, contemplating whether to buy that or a Pearl Jam shirt.

“Hello stranger.”

I jumped and turned around, both C.d’s clenched in my hands forcefully. I sighed out when I saw Gerard standing there grinning, wearing an army jacket considering the other one still needed washing from it’s dowsing of mud. We walked around HMV for a while, getting into the topic of why we were both here.

In the end it turned out into this ridiculous shopping spree, i.e me trying on every single dress Gerard handed me.

“I’m not coming out Gerard, I don’t care what you say,” I grunted, staring at the light pink lacy thing hanging off me, “I look like a stripper,” I told him, poking my head out of the door, “And I don’t like strippers,” I concluded, stropping out when he pulled open the door.

“Well it’s certainly different form your usual style, a lot of leg on show there don’t you think,” he teased, handing me another dress. Sixteen dresses, ninety nine curses and a million strops later Gerard finally told me I was having the black lacy one. I told him not in a thousand years. It was black, came just above my knee, a flouncy black skirt, with a corset and spaghetti strap –I hated it.

“You’re buying it,” he said, snatching the hanger from me through the door, “It looks good,” he persisted through the door as I tugged my original clothing back on, “Ren,” he cooed through the door when I didn’t answer him, “Look, I’ll actually buy tight pants if you buy this, right?”

The thought of Gerard actually buying tight jeans was entertaining, so I agreed. We then traipsed around for ages looking for guys trousers, that took longer than my dress shopping. He was stupidly picky, saying it dug into his stomach, or saying it was too tight on his thighs, or saying he could barely put them on over his underwear. Eventually –and I really mean eventually- he decided on a plain black pair. He managed to rip them in McDonalds though -at the knee- saying he wasn’t having crisp clean pants because he felt like a Barbie Doll. I had to laugh.

The week went to quickly after that, Gerard gave me the Six6Six ticket on Thursday and by Friday I was about as nervous as when my mum told me I was going to have my tooth pulled out. Gerard had taken my dress back to his house, in case my parents found it.

Friday evening I was shaking as I walked to Gerard’s house, everything about the situation was making me nervous. I knocked shakily on the door, gnawing my bottom lip savagely. Gerard opened the door dressed in black boxers and midnight black dress shirt. That made the situation all the more uneasy.

“Your dress is upstairs in my closet,” he told me, smiling a slightly. I stepped into the hallway, my nose being tickled with the smell of after shave, coffee and something else, I couldn’t pin point it. Opposite the door were dark wooden stairs which he began stepping up. I followed him cautiously, walking along the landin which had slightly tattered wall paper with different drawings and picture on them, “You okay? You’re quiet,” Mr. Way said pushing a door open to reveal a very scruffy looking room. The dark blue duvet was tangled at the end of a double bed, clothes lay in messy heaps on the floor like a second carpet and a mirror that stood on the left side of the room was being propped up on an old record case.

Gerard walked over to right side and pulled open a wardrobe, the only garment in there was the dress, his skinny jeans and piles of shoes at the bottom in various pairs. He took it out and laid it down carefully on the bed before closing the door again.

“You can sit down if you want…” he said, trailing off when he saw the only chair in the room was occupied by a dusty radio, different coffee mugs and comics, “On the bed anyway,” he chuckled. I sat down with a plonk, immediately realising Gerard was a ‘I sleep in the middle of the bed’ kinda guy from the big dent I nearly toppled into. I clung to edge of the mattress and pulled myself back up, chuckling shiftily, “I have a t.v remote somewhere in here,” he mumbled, throwing back pillows and sheets until he came across a dusty black television remote, “Here,” he said, handing it too me. I took it and looked across to the television, smiling weakly again when Gerard tried to sneakily take a pair of bright blue boxers from the television, “One day I will clean up this room,” he laughed.

I turned the television on, changing channels until I reached something reasonably good. I tried to relax, but ended up a twitching mess, clicking my thumb nail and tapping my foot constantly. I could hear Gerard in his en suite, turning taps on and off, swearing, banging into things, spraying hairspray The normal things.

“You can get ready if you like,” he said, poking his head round the door, a shaving foam beard in place, “The spare rooms down the corridor and too the right,” he said from the bathroom. I took the dress from it’s hanger and walked loftily down the corridor, finding the spare room easily. This room was much smaller, only room for a bed and a small cabinet beside table.

I sat down on the bed and took my satchel off, deciding to snoop whilst I was in here. I picked up a small grey box and opened it finding a note inside, Dear G, I stole the rest of your money so I could by a newspaper, Mikey. I put it back down and opened the drawer, finding different photos of Gerard’s family; a pretty blonde woman holding a very podgy baby with a small Gerard clinging to her leg. The next one was of Gerard in his teens his arm wrapped around a boy a little younger then him. he looked different from what he did now, podgier with a pudding base haircut.

I closed that draw and went down to the second one, a packet of aspirin, a new pack of razors, plasters, condoms… I closed that draw quickly. I suppose it was my fault my fault for snoopy. I drew open the last draw finding it crammed with different paper that had labels on like ‘StarWars Cheats’. I shuffled through and found nothing else but scraps of unwanted paper. I closed it and began undressing myself, throwing the dress on any old how. A knock at the door jolted me out of staring at the wall.

“You okay?” Mr. Way called through the door, he cracked the door open and poked his head through, a small piece of toilet roll stuck to his cheek where he had cut himself shaving, “You wanna drink? Y’know to get ‘relaxed’ for the club?” he questioned, waving an un-opened Smirnoff Ice at me through the door.

“Sure,” I shrugged, wanting anything to relax me. He came in and broke the caps off both bottles with the side cabinet, letting them haphazardly ping under the bed.

“So… watcha worried about?” Gerard asked randomly, handing me one bottle before lying back on the bed.

“Nothing, just nervous, I’ve never been to a club before. You hear so many stories about people getting raped and murdered-“ he intervened, sitting up.

“Wait, stop. Nothing is gonna happen. You’re with me right? I’m going to let anything to you.”
He said with such force, so seriously, it instantly soothed me, like he’d injected me with some kind of relaxation medicine. I sighed and nodded letting him put his arm round me in a half hug.

“Anyways, you should be friggin’ overjoyed that you get to see my fan-tab-u-lous dance moves,” he grinned.