Disenchanted (Frerard + Petekey)

The Ghost of You

As Gerard stared down at the empty page of his sketchbook waiting for inspiration to strike, a pair of legs clad in black denim wandered onto the other side of his coffee table and flopped onto the opposing bench.

Muriel said I couldn't take anybody else...

He looked up to find Davey waving daintily at him with one hand as he relaxed on the tiny bench.

"How's it going mister artist?"

"Uh, fine. How're you? How'd you even get out here? They said I couldn't take anybody out here with me..." Gerard trailed off, eyeing the nurse who was still reading as though nothing unusual had happened.

"Oh that's just for the little stabby boy." Davey replied flippantly. "Besides, I do what I want here."

He caught Gerard's incredulous expression, "Rules were meant to be broken babe. Besides, if it was a problem, she'd do something about it right?" He gestured to the blonde nurse.

"I... guess so..."

I mean, if he wasn't allowed out I'm sure they'd tell him... he had to be let out here by a nurse anyway so they must know he's here.
Whatever. If he's breaking out or something I'm not responsible cause I didn't open the door.

"—do it now?" Davey finished a question Gerard hadn't been listening to.

"Sorry?"

He rolled his eyes but smiled slightly as he repeated himself. "I said, you agreed to draw me, are you free to do it now?"

"Oh! Uh, sure I guess."

Davey twisted on the bench, adjusting his pose until he found the one he wanted. One leg up on the bench, his elbow propped up on it with his hand buried in his hair. His other limbs hung limply at his side. He turned his head to look out the frosted glass of the window, painting the faraway look onto his face.

Well I'll give him this, Gerard thought as he began sketching a rough outline, the boy knows how to pose.

Once Gerard had a rough outline done Davey relaxed his pose a bit, starting up the idle chitchat again.

"So Gerard," he drug out the 'a' sound in a way that made the hairs on the back of Gerard's neck prickle uncomfortably. "Are you legal?"

"Hm?"

He rolled his eyes. "Are you legal? Are you eighteen? Inquiring minds need to know!"

"Soon." He was trying to concentrate on his drawing and Davey wasn't making it easy. "I'm eighteen next week I think. You?"

"Pfft! You think! You'd forget your own birthday?" He carried on without waiting for a reply, "I'm twenty-one."
Gerard raised an eyebrow, glancing up at Davey through his bangs.

"Oh I know, I look much older than I am. It's because I'm so sophisticated." He mused, inspecting his nails as he spoke.

I'd say you look way younger. Thought we were the same age at least. Makes sense why you don't go to group then.

"So what do you do for fun? Like outside of here. You see a lot of shows in bars? That's the only upside I see to turning twenty-one." Gerard turned his attention to capturing the creases of Davey's shirt. If he could get him talking about himself maybe he wouldn't ask so many distracting questions.

"A few," Davey replied as he craned his neck to see how the sketch was shaping up, "but I'm not much into live performances. I live for the club scene."

Gerard could tell he was waiting for a response, so he mumbled a noise of agreement without looking up.

"Have you ever been? They're glorious! The music, the heat, room fulls of strangers all dancing and grinding."
He abandoned his pose entirely and placed both feet back on the floor, leaning forward to bring his face level with Gerard's.