*SORRY THIS WAS LATE!*
Chapter Thirty-One
The Truth, the Whole Truth, and Nothing but the Truth
My bare skin became exposed, his slid glided easily over my chest like butter. It felt so good. We were breaking yet another boundary both him and I put up the first day we met each other. That barrier we built was only for assurance. Neither of us knew this was going to happen. You could say it was a safety precaution – one that obviously failed. There were so many things I wanted to tell him, so many things I wanted to show him and I knew I wouldn’t be able to unless we grew even closer. I needed to know he was real, that I could touch him and trust with my whole entire life. I was pretty sure I could before, but now, any doubts that I did have were being slaughtered away with each kiss I felt on my body. Gerard roamed everywhere. He seemed to know every nook and cranny of my body like he had memorized it before. This made me feel a little better about what we were about to do. He knew what he was doing; he knew just what I liked, what I wanted him to do. Although it scared me a little I was glad I was in good hands.
Gerard broke our connection by bringing his face away from mine and sitting up straight on my lap. I still remained laying on the couch – though he was raised higher than me, when he spoke, he wasn’t talking down to me. There was a sense of care and compassion in his words that made him equal. “You’re welcome.” He flicked his head to the side causing some of his bands to fly to the other side and out of his face. His hair wasn’t extremely long but there were still thick pieces that sometimes got in the way. He looked so perfect there like he belonged to be higher than me but actually the same. It was a hard feeling to comprehend. And as excited as I had gotten I didn’t really want think about anything else other than him on top of me and the warmth of his heavy body.
He was keeping me in place, showing me that everything was okay despite him being uncomfortable with the exchange of affection only a few days ago. Gerard was keeping me grounded, on my back on the couch with no chance of escaping. I didn’t even want to escape – I was happy right where I was. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else in the world. I felt fucking alive. I stared at him more and noticed things I hadn’t before. He had passion driven into him. I couldn’t hold myself down any longer. I propped myself up on my elbows getting even closer to the artist. I finally found the strength to sit up. My nose touched his chin. I glided my tongue over it until he brought my face up with his hands. He nibbled on the top of my ear. I moaned slightly feeling his teeth touch my fare skin like tiny knives. I brought my own hands to his arms and slid them down to interlock with his own. I moved them to his chest, starting at his neck and unbuttoning his shirt slowly to savor the moment. He sucked on the side of my neck causing me to stop momentarily to calm my feelings. My hands were shaking wildly with the sensation. It was a shock to my system, something I wasn’t expecting to feel so good. He ran his lips on the right side of my face, reaching places he had not yet explored. Each new location he discovered caught me off guard, and again, making me stop and take in a shaky breath. It felt so good. It felt so right, just like it always did with Gerard.
It wasn’t long before we were both out of breath, doing things we didn’t think we would ever do. We still had boundaries to break and I was willing to wait until we were both ready to knock them down.
…
I was sitting in one of the garden chairs holding a paint brush and canvas securely in my hands. Gerard was in the one across from me. I occurred to me that I really had no idea what to paint. I had this dilemma before and he talked me through it very well. I closed my eyes, trying to soak in what I had learned from that day. Then, my thoughts were interrupted by something so much more powerful than the ones currently on my mind. It was about Gerard (of course) and I. We were just sitting there waiting for some inspiration to come and smack us in the face. We had just connected on a whole different level and so quickly – now we were acting like nothing had happened at all, like it was nothing, like we weren’t sitting shirtless in wicker garden chairs, painting all our feelings. We were acting so simple. Neither of us dwelled on our previous action, but why? I was so comfortable with it, too. Normally I would be jumping out and sound, swearing my head off in excitement or confusion. But now, I was peaceful like Gerard always was. I was turning into him.
I decided to break the silence, hoping I would get some closure to my pestering thoughts. “You came back.” Was all I said. I kept both items in my hands but the man sitting across from me dropped both to his lap slowly, keeping eye contact. He let out a sigh before saying anything; I couldn’t tell whether he was annoyed, thinking, or just happy. “Yes. I did, Frank.” He chuckled after saying my name which made me smile along with him. “Why?” The one simple word vocalized itself, drifted around Gerard’s head for a while making him think even though I knew he already had a big long answer supporting everything and exposing double meanings. “Because I wasn’t supposed to leave yet.” His tone was so simple, there wasn’t a crack to it, no hesitation whatsoever. He knew what he wanted to say so he was gonna say it no matter if it confused the fuck out of me or not. “Leave?” I set the canvas on the ground along with the paintbrush. What did he mean leave? All he did was smile which made me angry. I wasn’t sure what else to say, I just wanted to keep questioning him but I knew that wouldn’t get me anywhere. He changed subjects quickly, steering my away from what he said before. “I have a feeling something else is on your mind.” He said it like a question but I knew dam well it was a statement. Was he testing me? Seeing how I would react to him and his all knowing brain?
It didn’t bother me in the slightest. I had actually grown used to him getting random facts right. At one point I thought for sure he was a stalker, my personal one at that. But Gerard would never do that. There were a lot of harmful things I knew he just couldn’t do, and that was one of them. Besides, he would have to reason to stalk me, and why would he spill everything he knew about me if he even was one? It would blow his cover.
“You could say that, yeah.” I didn’t want to say much. I was testing him, now to see how much he really knew. Sometimes I got the feeling he was so educated about me because I gave away things when not even realizing it. The again, I knew Gerard could see right through me. Is this was true or not, me being careless and running my mouth would help him with his findings greatly. Now that I thought about this, dug deeper down into my theory, I wanted to put a test to action. I didn’t believe he knew what I was doing. There was no way he could. Now all I had to do was sit and listen. But, even after I spoke that one little sentence he didn’t say anything. I looked at him, really truly looked. He was waiting for me to continue and to finish. I bent down, searched for the canvas I had set down and the brush that had rolled off of it onto the floor. I brought the two things back up to me. I dipped the brush into the green paint. Right before I pressed the bristles to the surface Gerard coughed, he had given up and I had won. Or so I thought.
“Frank you can tell me anything, you know that, right?” He lifted his chin into the air only slightly higher from where it rested before. His hands were draped over his knee, his legs were crossed in a feminine fashion but he didn’t come off as that at all – he was fruitier but still manly looking. He was dressed in his all black attire, mimicking this same fashion statement everyday. Although I was caught by surprise of his white scarf the minute I saw it, it suited him well – it reminded me of those old black and white movies filled with creepy monsters and rip-offs of Dracula. Gerard was like a step back in time, a leap into the future, and a comforting theme in the present. I knew I could trust him, I really did but I held back everything I had on my mind that moment. It was like I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t find those words to explain myself – and I wasn’t sure if I was prepared to enlighten him on my concerns. They were still too fresh. I figured I would give them time to either die down or become worse. I didn’t reply with anything. I suddenly knew exactly what I wanted to paint. I wasn’t sure if I would be able to do it, but I was going to try. I wasn’t going to let what happened moments before leave me. It was apart of Gerard and my story, just like I wasn’t going to let him slip away, I wasn’t going to let this memory go either.
The brush darted across the canvas and I suddenly knew what he had been trying to teach me the whole time, about being myself and being unique. The first painting I had ever done in front of him, where I sat for hours constructing my piece and him luring over my shoulder to watch, I had the same feeling I did now and it felt fucking great. I wanted to feel light again shoot through me. I wanted to feel that spark ignite with Gerard by my side painting away with me. It wasn’t until my wrist stopped snapping and the instrument in my hands halted that that spark died. I took a look at my finished work, it sucked. It didn’t even look like what I was trying to capture. The moment suddenly felt miles and miles away, it was running from me and it was took quick, I couldn’t bring it back to the front of my mind so I could paint. It was just gone.
I sighed heavily, looking at my shitty display. What the fuck had happened? I let myself be free, I let myself go – but why did this turn out to be such a wreck? Gerard must have seen my shocked countenance, he spoke up. “Let me see!” He sounded excited and giddy, leaning over the arm of his chair to get closer to me. I pulled back the front of the canvas, hiding the hideous “work of art” against my chest. I could feel the cold paint forming to my skin. I didn’t care if it got ruined, I didn’t care if some of it smudged onto my skin. Gerard wasn’t going to see it. No one was. He caught my drift rather quickly. “Frank, pa-lease,” He stuck out his hand in a flamboyant fashion and rolled his eyes. “No art is ugly. It’s only what you make it, and whatever you make it is beautiful.” I shot him a look but didn’t bring the piece away from my body. I was going to hide it forever – no matter what Gerard may say to me I wasn’t going to let this one pass. What I was trying to capture was too precious to show someone so talented and have them find out you failed. He saw that I wasn’t giving up, not any time soon. “Frank,” His spoke with a ring of authority, something I wasn’t used to hearing in the esteemed artist’s voice. He was no longer the character I loved (even though I still did) he was the teacher who was giving a lesson. It was kind of like a good-cop-bad-cop situation, even though either way Gerard was the nicest anyone could ever be. I knew that he was serious, though. He wanted to get something straight. “In my opinion there is bad art – but there is never ugly art.” It was like he was reading my mind once more. I knew for sure if I showed him what I had created his mind would be changed. I just knew it. I wanted to prove him wrong so I could be right at least once, but I was terrified to show him my painting. I was terrified of being rejected for something I didn’t mean to do. “How is that possible, Gerard?” I spat, referring to his last comment. He jumped into a conclusion right away, defending himself like it was rehearsed.
“There are bad artists, ones that don’t understand what they’re creating, what they’re bringing to life. They are artists without souls. This is where you get your bad art –,”
“From bad painters.”
“No, bad artists.” I cocked an eyebrow. “Not all artists are painters, Frank.” I nodded my head; fully understand what the fuck he was talking about. I felt kind of proud…until he continued. “Bad art is a piece with no meaning. The artists just – for example – painted it to paint it, there was no depth about it. It’s a lost cause.” The words seemed to hurt him as he said it. I began to wonder whether he believed his harsh words against the world he loved so much. “But, despite their lack of meaning, it does not mean the image isn’t beautiful. It doesn’t mean that the artist hasn’t établi something beautiful.” I cocked my head and my eyebrow. “Établi, created.”
“Oh,”
“All paintings are gorgeous. And, Frank. I am positive your’s is.” I shook my head, his words were convincing, inspiring. I wanted to turn the canvas around to show him, get it over and done with quick like ripping off a ban-aid – but it wasn’t that easy. I couldn’t be. Finally, I was able to say something, all though weak, it seemed to strike Gerard in such a way, he lit up. “My opinion doesn’t matter; I know that – but, Gerard. Your’s does. To me.” There was a look in his eye. One that I knew right off the top of my head. He was touched by my compliment. He was realizing how much his opinion mattered. “If my opinion matters so much to you then let me see it.” He smiled. He wasn’t coaxing me into anything. If I didn’t want to show him he wasn’t going to make me but he had his own ways of making me come around. “What does all this mean to you?” I questioned suddenly not caring if it was off the topic. It wasn’t that I wanted to stray away from showing him my painting; it was because the fresh thought popped into my mind again, toying with my brain, begging my lips to speak the words. Gerard gave me a perplexed look. “What happened, Gerard – just now?” I could tell he knew exactly what I was talking about. But I could also tell that he hadn’t seen this one coming. He sat back in his chair and stroked his hairless chin. “La vita, la verità” I rolled my eyes, “Come on, Gerard. Again with the French? You know I can’t understand you!” He simply smiled and shook his head, waving a finger in the air. “It’s not French,” He stated matter-of-factly. “It’s Italian.” I raised my brows, not knowing he knew how to speak a different tongue other than French and English. “And,” I eased into my upcoming question, leaning forward slightly in my garden chair, moving closer to him, breathing heavily – “What does it mean?” Gerard’s smile widened along with his eyes. He out-stretched both up his arms, hands facing me like he was inviting me in for a hug. His cheeks turned a rose color which washed out his normal pale skin. His shoulders relaxed and he leaned in with me. “It means life, and truth.”
