Paramour, Part 2
May I present the soft fluffiness that is part two:
Gerard was perched on an over-sized blood-red leather couch, his pen making quick, confident strokes on his sketchpad. It was good to see him drawing again. Art was more than just a hobby for Gerard; it was a vital life-giving force.
Frank was leaning back in an armchair listening to his mp3 player. After rehearsing the same song for the entire day he was desperate to listen to something else to clear his head. His eyes were closed but from time to time he peeked through lowered lids to watch Gerard at work. His bandmate had been under a lot of pressure lately and hadn't been in the best of moods. His art, however, always helped him to de-stress and Frank was relieved to see Gerard looking so relaxed and happy. After listening to a couple of songs, Frank's curiosity got the better of him. He took off his headphones and leaned over to see what his friend was creating.
"Can I see?"
"Hang on, I'm almost done. I'm doing that painting." Gerard gestured towards a large canvas hanging above the fireplace. It depicted a woman's body lying on a table mid-autopsy. "Isn't it great? I just wanna sketch it."
Frank looked up at the gruesome painting. "Hmm, it's okay, but I think the one you did is better," said Frank, referring to the cd artwork Gerard had done.
"Yeah, another one to add to my growing collection of autopsy art!" Gerard laughed. "Look at the way her heart and brain have been ripped out. Like she lost her mind because her heart was broken."
"Yeeeah," said Frank, slowly. It amused him that his bandmate always tried to analyze everything, to seek out hidden depth and meaning, even in a painting such as this. Gerard's morbid obsessions fascinated him - the way he embraced death and could see a beauty in it that few people could appreciate. However, as much as Frank loved comic books and their violent imagery, this painting was rather too graphic for his taste. What kind of sick fuck hangs that in their living room? he thought wryly.
"Can you believe the record company put us up in the coolest fucking place in LA? I mean, look at all this shit!" Gerard looked up for a moment and waved his pen enthusiastically before continuing with his sketch. This huge, hilltop mansion set in 4 acres of private terraced gardens inspired Gerard like nothing he had ever seen. The house even had its own chapel due to its previous incarnation as a convent. The combination of gothic and religious imagery appealed to all the band members but it was Gerard in particular who had fallen completely under its spell. It was as if he had found his own little slice of heaven here in the LA hills and everyone had noticed how motivated and enthused he was. He seemed to be absorbing the incredible vibes of his surroundings and transmuting it into pure creativity.
Frank let his gaze drift around the room, drinking in the ornate Italian furniture, the stenciled walls, the luxurious upholstery and the numerous antiques and objets d'art which were scattered everywhere. He found the overall effect to be rather overpowering. As much as he wanted to like it, he had to admit that he thought most of the stuff looked like junk. "It looks like a Transylvanian garage sale!" he quipped, grinning.
Gerard giggled. "It's perfect for us then!"
Seeing the singer in such high spirits made Frank's heart sing. He cared about this man so much that he felt he would literally do anything to put a smile on his face, and to keep it there. If Gerard was happy, Frank was happy. It was as simple as that.
"So, what do you think?" Gerard turned his finished sketch around so that Frank could see it.
"Wowww!" Frank was truly awed by his best friend's artistic talents. It was astonishing how Gerard had captured the likeness perfectly, whilst still keeping his own distinctive style. "You amaze me, as always, Mr Way."
"Why thank you, Mr Iero," said Gerard as he signed his new artwork with his usual X's, O's and a curly G. He put down his sketchpad and pen and tried to make himself comfortable on the couch, something he was finding difficult due to the unfeasible number of cushions he was sharing it with. "Fucking cushions!" he cried in exasperation, sweeping them all onto the floor. He picked one up and threw it at an unsuspecting Frank. "Here, have a cushion!"
Frank let out a raucous yell as the flying object hit him squarely in the face. "Hey, you lookin' for trouble, my friend?"
Gerard's face was defiant. "Yup, sure am!" he cried as he flung another tasseled missile in Frank's direction.
The guitarist expertly blocked it with his arm before volleying a barrage of velvet and brocade back across the room. Gerard covered his head with his arms and ran for cover behind the couch.
"You fucking coward!" shrieked Frank shortly before an orange and gold beaded creation struck his arm. He yelled with pain as he learned that beads hurt when thrown at speed. "Ow! That was sore!"
"Sorry!" cried a muffled voice from behind the couch.
"You will be when I get hold of you!"
"Promises, promises!"
Frank ran to the couch and launched himself over the back of it, not caring where or how he landed, just knowing that he wanted revenge. He grabbed Gerard from behind and the two men tussled and rolled around on the hard wooden floorboards. The smaller man, however, was no match for the larger, stronger Gerard who soon overpowered him. "You're so cute when you're angry!" smirked Gerard, grabbing Frank's wrists.
"I am... not... cute!" gasped Frank, laughing so hard that his breath came only in short gulps.
Gerard was now sitting astride Frank, pinning his wrists to the floor. As their hearts raced and tears of laughter ran down their cheeks, Frank realized that for the second time that day the two of them had ended up on the floor together.
"You are cute!" insisted Gerard. "Repeat after me, I - am - cute."
Frank collapsed into a fit of giggles as he thought to himself, "Yes, you are, Gerard!" He shook his head from side to side and cried, "No! Get off!"
"Not until you say it. Say it, Frank! I - am - cute."
"Fuck you!" Weak from laughter, the only weapons he had left were insults.
"Aw, I know you don't really mean that," Gerard pouted.
"I can't breathe!"
"You don't need to breathe. Just shut the fuck up and kiss me." And with that Gerard brought his lips down upon Frank's protesting mouth.
Gerard was perched on an over-sized blood-red leather couch, his pen making quick, confident strokes on his sketchpad. It was good to see him drawing again. Art was more than just a hobby for Gerard; it was a vital life-giving force.
Frank was leaning back in an armchair listening to his mp3 player. After rehearsing the same song for the entire day he was desperate to listen to something else to clear his head. His eyes were closed but from time to time he peeked through lowered lids to watch Gerard at work. His bandmate had been under a lot of pressure lately and hadn't been in the best of moods. His art, however, always helped him to de-stress and Frank was relieved to see Gerard looking so relaxed and happy. After listening to a couple of songs, Frank's curiosity got the better of him. He took off his headphones and leaned over to see what his friend was creating.
"Can I see?"
"Hang on, I'm almost done. I'm doing that painting." Gerard gestured towards a large canvas hanging above the fireplace. It depicted a woman's body lying on a table mid-autopsy. "Isn't it great? I just wanna sketch it."
Frank looked up at the gruesome painting. "Hmm, it's okay, but I think the one you did is better," said Frank, referring to the cd artwork Gerard had done.
"Yeah, another one to add to my growing collection of autopsy art!" Gerard laughed. "Look at the way her heart and brain have been ripped out. Like she lost her mind because her heart was broken."
"Yeeeah," said Frank, slowly. It amused him that his bandmate always tried to analyze everything, to seek out hidden depth and meaning, even in a painting such as this. Gerard's morbid obsessions fascinated him - the way he embraced death and could see a beauty in it that few people could appreciate. However, as much as Frank loved comic books and their violent imagery, this painting was rather too graphic for his taste. What kind of sick fuck hangs that in their living room? he thought wryly.
"Can you believe the record company put us up in the coolest fucking place in LA? I mean, look at all this shit!" Gerard looked up for a moment and waved his pen enthusiastically before continuing with his sketch. This huge, hilltop mansion set in 4 acres of private terraced gardens inspired Gerard like nothing he had ever seen. The house even had its own chapel due to its previous incarnation as a convent. The combination of gothic and religious imagery appealed to all the band members but it was Gerard in particular who had fallen completely under its spell. It was as if he had found his own little slice of heaven here in the LA hills and everyone had noticed how motivated and enthused he was. He seemed to be absorbing the incredible vibes of his surroundings and transmuting it into pure creativity.
Frank let his gaze drift around the room, drinking in the ornate Italian furniture, the stenciled walls, the luxurious upholstery and the numerous antiques and objets d'art which were scattered everywhere. He found the overall effect to be rather overpowering. As much as he wanted to like it, he had to admit that he thought most of the stuff looked like junk. "It looks like a Transylvanian garage sale!" he quipped, grinning.
Gerard giggled. "It's perfect for us then!"
Seeing the singer in such high spirits made Frank's heart sing. He cared about this man so much that he felt he would literally do anything to put a smile on his face, and to keep it there. If Gerard was happy, Frank was happy. It was as simple as that.
"So, what do you think?" Gerard turned his finished sketch around so that Frank could see it.
"Wowww!" Frank was truly awed by his best friend's artistic talents. It was astonishing how Gerard had captured the likeness perfectly, whilst still keeping his own distinctive style. "You amaze me, as always, Mr Way."
"Why thank you, Mr Iero," said Gerard as he signed his new artwork with his usual X's, O's and a curly G. He put down his sketchpad and pen and tried to make himself comfortable on the couch, something he was finding difficult due to the unfeasible number of cushions he was sharing it with. "Fucking cushions!" he cried in exasperation, sweeping them all onto the floor. He picked one up and threw it at an unsuspecting Frank. "Here, have a cushion!"
Frank let out a raucous yell as the flying object hit him squarely in the face. "Hey, you lookin' for trouble, my friend?"
Gerard's face was defiant. "Yup, sure am!" he cried as he flung another tasseled missile in Frank's direction.
The guitarist expertly blocked it with his arm before volleying a barrage of velvet and brocade back across the room. Gerard covered his head with his arms and ran for cover behind the couch.
"You fucking coward!" shrieked Frank shortly before an orange and gold beaded creation struck his arm. He yelled with pain as he learned that beads hurt when thrown at speed. "Ow! That was sore!"
"Sorry!" cried a muffled voice from behind the couch.
"You will be when I get hold of you!"
"Promises, promises!"
Frank ran to the couch and launched himself over the back of it, not caring where or how he landed, just knowing that he wanted revenge. He grabbed Gerard from behind and the two men tussled and rolled around on the hard wooden floorboards. The smaller man, however, was no match for the larger, stronger Gerard who soon overpowered him. "You're so cute when you're angry!" smirked Gerard, grabbing Frank's wrists.
"I am... not... cute!" gasped Frank, laughing so hard that his breath came only in short gulps.
Gerard was now sitting astride Frank, pinning his wrists to the floor. As their hearts raced and tears of laughter ran down their cheeks, Frank realized that for the second time that day the two of them had ended up on the floor together.
"You are cute!" insisted Gerard. "Repeat after me, I - am - cute."
Frank collapsed into a fit of giggles as he thought to himself, "Yes, you are, Gerard!" He shook his head from side to side and cried, "No! Get off!"
"Not until you say it. Say it, Frank! I - am - cute."
"Fuck you!" Weak from laughter, the only weapons he had left were insults.
"Aw, I know you don't really mean that," Gerard pouted.
"I can't breathe!"
"You don't need to breathe. Just shut the fuck up and kiss me." And with that Gerard brought his lips down upon Frank's protesting mouth.