Envision The Magic [Frerard] [By innocent_wolves on LJ]

Chapter Six

Even though it was only half past nine and considerably early to go clubbing, The DropKick was already crawling with people lining up to get in. Frank had never really been to this ship attraction yet. Suddenly he felt like he'd ended up in a city somewhere and had stumbled across some super hip and exclusive club, but instead of walking by, aiming at a place where he could actually afford getting in, he was now finding himself heading straight for the entrance. This was much thanks to Gerard's firm grip around his arm, ushering him to the very front of the VIP-line.

Why does this place even have a VIP-line? he thought vaguely, as he found himself face to face with a very tall doorman, who immediately raised a suspicious eyebrow at him. Frank stared back at him, embarrassed, feeling as though he was an intruder who had somehow managed to cut in line. He was about to open his mouth and apologize when Gerard finally decided it was about time he came to his aid.

"Employee," he explained casually, nodding in Frank's direction with a slight shrug. "He's with me."

They both got a silent nod of approval from the doorman. Frank was in the process of taking out his wallet, just to show him his work ID as proof, when he was yet again grabbed by the arm and dragged inside. Apparently that wasn’t needed in Gerard’s company.

He knew very well that the club was fashionable, but right there and then Frank could determine with the greatest certainty that a picture in a brochure couldn't even justify the direct experience. The club was bathing in deep blue lights, and looking down at the floor was like looking at the white bottom of a swimming pool; he got the immediate impression of being underwater, as though sunlight was piercing some invisible watery surface above their heads, creating that spectrum of wavy shadows. Soon he also realized that the entire wall to his far right was in fact a long and narrow fish tank; he could see a wide and colorful variety of what had to be koi fish swimming the length of the wall, some of them staring and mouthing stupidly back at the party guests admiring them.

Okay, this club has fish in the wall, he thought to himself, gaping at the discovery he'd made. Fucking fish in the wall.

He watched as a young woman leaned forward and tapped her finger against the glass, a dark and silver speckled koi fish hovering in front of her, its expressionless face aligned perfectly with her nose and her slightly raised drink, before it swam carelessly away, none the wiser that the life it lived was in a fish tank in a cruise ship disco. Frank tore his eyes off the scene and looked around. There were purple, pink and green lights everywhere, and they brought variation to the underwater shadows on the dance floor, which was remarkably spacious. That would change for sure when the night progressed and people got more and more drunk.

The bars here were also much different from the other bars on the ship; the bartenders all wore regular dark jeans and bright pink t-shirts, the print on the front saying 'Drop' while the back read 'Kick'. It soon became obvious that it was okay for the bartender to give the bottle a spin in the air before they poured the glass; tricks were most definitely appropriate in this place. To have a shift here would almost be the same as having a night off; you could just let all the formal etiquette go and have fun. For a second, Frank caught himself hoping that he would be stationed here, even though it wasn't very likely, not on his first week at least.

Eventually he remembered that he wasn't there alone and his heart sank considerably, the daydream about himself standing behind that bar in a pink DropKick t-shirt immediately erased from his mind. The music was loud, drowning out his own voice completely, so he turned to Gerard, shrugging an annoyed "Where to?" at him. Gerard craned his neck, giving the place a quick, expressionless sweep, before he nodded towards the nearest bar, which was located right across the dance floor.

Awkwardly, Frank weaved his way past the guests who had already occupied the floor, but stumbled to an abrupt halt as a tall woman in front of him flipped her long hair over her shoulder and it hit him, like a whip, right in the face. He let out a sigh that drowned in all the noise; there was no way they'd get through to the bar, not when there were people both hanging out there and queuing up in front of it, eager to order drinks. He threw another glance at his unwanted companion, half hoping that maybe he would be left alone if he got bored and decided to give it up. Gerard paused beside him for a moment, his hands in his pockets, before he looked Frank up and down in a curious manner and then just signaled for him to wait.

Of course, he pretty much walked straight up to the bar. He tapped a few people's shoulders and without any protests they let him cut in line. Frank was sure that not all of them recognized him as Gerard the Magician. It wasn't like he was David Copperfield famous, and a lot of these people were already under the influence. On top of everything they were situated right in the middle of a noisy and busy place; naturally, it would take them a couple of moments to properly scan and recognize a face. Still everyone here let Gerard through. It was the damndest thing. It was as though his personality was so persuasive in itself that people just obeyed. It acted as his own personal deflector shield; it pushed everyone out of the way. Or maybe he quickly hypnotized them somehow, that wouldn't be surprising at all.

It took him only a moment to come back with drinks. Wordlessly, he handed one of them to Frank; the glass was ice cold and moist. As far as he could tell he had ordered a Tom Collins for them both; a couple of lemon slices were cutting in between the ice cubes, and a cherry was bobbing up and down through the transparent surface. This was one of the drinks he really liked but for whatever reasons didn’t like to admit that he did. Gerard pointed at his own ear and shook his head, indicating that the bar was far too noisy, and nodded towards a row of cubicles along one of the walls. Frank shrugged and followed him.

Most of the cubicles were already occupied, and as they approached, a group consisting of four or five young women spotted them. They looked at them with apparent interest, and especially at Gerard, whom they seemed to recognize. They leaned forward hopefully, crossing their legs, leaving it up to thighs and cleavages to reel them in.

Great, here we go, Frank thought darkly, scowling at the back of Gerard's head. He was pretty sure he would pick up on their obvious offer pretty quickly, he seemed to have a well-functioning radar for such things, but to his slight surprise he simply ignored them and headed towards an empty cubicle further away. The girls looked offended as they passed them; Frank was sure he could hear one of them exclaim something that sounded like "Whatever, I bet they're gay."

"You didn't spike this with anything, right?" Frank asked as they sat down, nodding questioningly towards his drink.

Deep inside he'd only meant for it to be a joke but it came out sounding more suspicious than anything. Gerard, seated opposite to him, cocked his eyebrow and that crooked smile reappeared. He moved the ice cubes and the lemon slices slowly around with the cocktail stirrer, looking amused.

"I could have, of course," he replied, nodding. "Very easily. But it lacks a little class, right? It's too cheap to persuade you like that anyway."

"Uhm, how did you know what kind of drink to pick?" Frank asked quickly, moving a little uncomfortably in his seat, ignoring the last part of his reply; he didn't really want to know what he meant about persuasion. "You never asked me what I wanted."

"Well," he shrugged, gesturing slightly at him, "beneath this whole tattooed rocker guy 'I only drink beer, fuck the world' wannabe hardcore image of yours there's usually an embarrassing weakness for nice little cocktails with pink umbrellas and all that shit, you know? Call them obscure statistics if you like."

"Yeah, so-called girl drinks. But you picked a Tom Collins though. It's not even all that bad to be a guy and get caught drinking one of these."

"It's just awesome guesswork," Gerard replied, accompanied by a subtle shrug and another half-smile. "I just assumed you'd like this one. I can read you normal people pretty fucking well, you'd be surprised."

Frank took a sip of his drink. The iciness of it was a welcome contrast to the hot air inside the club. He closed his eyes momentarily; that surely was something else than a can of Heineken. It was when he tasted something different that he realized how bored he could get of the beer in his fridge. He stole a quick glance at Gerard.

Yeah, sure: normal people. The great magician obviously didn't consider himself as one of them. And maybe he wasn't, with his slightly pale looks, perfectly chiseled cheekbones and hazel eyes. Somehow he always looked as though he was slightly critical to everything, like if he decided to ask you a question, he wouldn't accept just any answer. Frank wasn't sure whether that was creative thinking or plain stubbornness. Maybe it was over-confidence. Maybe he just liked to argue.

He had turned quiet, directing his attention to his cell phone. His dark hair arched across his forehead, like narrow little bridges, casting long, thin shadows on his skin. He was creepy in a strange, appealing way, but even more so, he was a nonchalant human being. That's what he was; nonchalant. And arrogant. Right now he was flaunting his God-given gift of being able to just sit in complete silence together with someone he didn't know without being awkward. If there was any awkwardness at all it had been shoved across the table and onto Frank's lap, because he sure couldn’t relax in his company.

"So how did you get that card up my sleeve?"

It was strange to break the silence like that; Frank wasn't sure whether or not he should have. Part of him didn't even want to breathe in the same air as the guy, while the other part, the part that had found him reluctantly attractive since day one, had now emerged fully and actually wanted to have a conversation with him.

Gerard glanced up, that roguish smile still glued to the corners of his mouth, as though it was just something he was born with, like a birthmark or a harelip – or the fact that he sometimes spoke out of the right corner of his mouth.

"I didn't. You took it."

"Sure I did," Frank replied, shooting him a sarcastic smile. "Seriously though, how did you do it?"

"Newsflash, Frankie: I'm a magician, that's what magicians do. I don't have to tell you mortals any secrets. Besides, I can't. There are unwritten rules."

"No, you're an illusionist," Frank corrected. "There's a difference. There's no such thing as magic."

Gerard leaned forward, still not letting the corners of his mouth relax. Carefully, he pulled his wrist free from his sleeve, then he held his empty hand up and let it hover, immovable, only inches away from Frank's nose.

"Really? Well, let me tell you one thing," he said quietly, almost unnoticeably moving his fingers. "There are different kinds of magic. For me, it's all about distractions. That's where the true magic lies; just watch." He moved his fingers again.

Nothing happened. His hand was still empty, still suspended in the air between them. Then he nodded subtly at a spot on the table, right in front of him. Frank looked down, puzzled, and realized that a Jack of Hearts had been put in his drink. It was leaning curiously against the neon-colored cocktail stirrer, halfway submerged in the drink, looking as though it had been travelling for weeks and now had to rest and cool off somewhere.

"That wasn't even a trick," Gerard laughed, a slightly hoarse and somewhat high-pitched kind of laugh. "I could have done a number of things while you were petrified by this." He waved his empty hand at him and laughed again. "I could easily have nicked your wallet. You just got distracted. It’s a motherfucking hand; everyone's got them, more or less."

Frank felt himself blush, something that didn't take him by surprise anymore.

"Okay, fine. Impressive."

He didn't know what to do or say in the moment of silence that followed, so he just glanced at his watch. He realized it had already turned 11.30; he couldn't stay there, he had to start early the next day. It dawned on him that this was pretty much his best chance to get the hell out of there.

"I should probably get going," he said slowly, awkwardly starting to edge past the table. "It's getting late and I have work in the morning."

Gerard leaned back, intertwining his fingers and eyening him thoughtfully. His lips curled upwards again.

"Oh, right," he nodded matter-of-factly, "sure. You have yet another day ahead of you where you can pretend to be a bartender."

"Some of us actually have real jobs," Frank smiled shortly, shrugging as he got up. "Hey, uhm, thanks for the drink, by the way. You could let me pay you back -?" he added questioningly, reaching in his pockets for his wallet; at least he could remain polite about this weird night, and there was always a certain dignity in paying for your own drinks.

Gerard didn't move, he just kept his lips curled and his fingers locked together, his eyes still resting on him. Was he trying to make him feel uncomfortable again? Because it was starting to work.

"That would be a waste of your well-earned, real money seeing as I didn't even pay for them. Free drinks whenever I want them are one of the perks of my pretend job. If you stick around in the bar you might advance one day as well. Maybe they'll give you a free Coke, who knows?"

Frank snorted loudly, a reaction that was a mix of laughter and disapproval. Right – his perks. They didn't only include free drinks, he knew that much. Just when you thought this guy could keep a somewhat normal conversation for once, he'd throw some kind of insult at you in the very last minute that proved him otherwise. Maybe he was just offended because he wanted to leave.

"Fine," he sighed and pocketed his wallet, not wanting to fuel his rudeness any further, "whatever you say. Thanks anyway."

He turned on the spot without any more bother and made his way past the dancing and drinking guests. He thought he heard Gerard call something like "Anytime, Frankie!" after him, but he wasn't sure. Nor did he care.

***

Frank had already reached his deck and the deserted stairway down to the staff quarters when he heard his name being called out behind him. He spun around and to his surprise – and suspicion – he saw that Gerard came jogging after him. He rolled his eyes. Great.

"What do you want?" he asked, noticing how that intense and annoyed feeling came seeping back into him, bringing out a hostile tone in his voice.

Gerard stared at him for a couple of seconds, a little out of breath after running. Then he started pacing back and forth for a while, biting the nail of his thumb, before he stopped, one hand resting on his hip and the other one quickly running though his hair. If Frank hadn't known better he'd say he looked unsure, even a little nervous. He frowned.

"You know…" Gerard began, wetting his lips and staring thoughtfully into the open, as though trying to catch and arrange his words before he spoke; it looked like a strange, unknown thing for him to do. This was, after all, a man who was never lost for words.

"You know how in school, a girl would complain and say that a boy was being mean to her when in reality, he was just trying to show in his own way that he was interested in her?"

Frank just stared at him, having no idea how he was supposed to respond to that random piece of information. He ran after him just so he could tell him something that made no sense? He sighed and shook his head.

"Look," he said, backing away, "I don't know what the fuck you're talking about, I don't speak your language of crazy, so if you'll excuse me –"

He didn't even get a chance to turn around before Gerard had moved forward and grabbed him firmly by the arm, stopping him.

"And I guess I was naïve enough to assume you weren't one of the dumb ones," he said, sounding a little annoyed. "The boy was just trying to tell the girl that he liked her," he attempted again, looking at him suggestively. "Sometimes, being mean and rude is just a way to show that you're interested. Are you following me here at all?"

There was a moment of silence so heavy that Frank almost expected hearing crickets.

"So… So you think I'm interesting?" he asked.

His voice was calm and even, but his mouth had gone completely dry. It felt like his tongue was glued to the roof of his mouth, making clicking sounds after each word he uttered. He concentrated very hard on not to swallow; he was afraid it would create a loud and awkward gulp if he did.

Gerard stepped closer and sucked thoughtfully on his lower lip, as if he was considering this one last time. Frank automatically took a couple of steps back, but was left no other choice but to stop once he’d hit the wall.

"Something like that," he eventually agreed.

"And, uhm, you're trying to tell me that I look like a girl?"

Gerard let that short, hoarse laughter escape him again, and Frank noticed just how close he was standing. His breath smelled like cigarettes, alcohol and lime, and he spotted a mesmerizing kind of sparkle in his eyes; he could pretty much have counted each and every brown, green and amber fragment hiding in them if he wanted to. He noticed that the faint, sweet scent of his cologne had started to slowly wrap itself around his head, and that his black shirt was open by a couple of buttons, partially revealing his collarbones and how they led the way towards the visible dip at the base of his throat.

God, he thought. Why do you have to be so damn attractive? Just go away.

Frank bit his lip, trying to find something else he could look at but the person in front of him worked like a magnet on his eyes. He'd been right about him all along; his personality was persuasive and hypnotizing. It was like being pinned between the wall and Gerard’s aura; it was suffocating and irresistible all at once.

"Can't you just go along with that crappy analogy, Frankie?"

"What happens if I do?" Frank asked, his voice strained and his neck hurting from the tension.

Gerard had moved so close now that his breath was almost turning his lips damp and warm. His palms were planted steadily against the wall on each side of his head, not leaving him any chance to get away, unless he ducked under one of his arms. For some reason he wasn't sure how to do that; his brain knew how to execute the movement but all the motor neurons in his body were like paralyzed, no longer sending any messages through his nervous system. He wasn't sure if he remembered how to move. He was afraid his knees would buckle if he tried.

"If I told you to guess," Gerard began, "would you guess that in about seven seconds from now I would be kissing you?"

Frank wanted to reply that no, he wouldn't have guessed that at all, but his words seemed to be stuck in his throat. In the end he just shook his head, his gaze mercilessly caught within the magnetic field that was Gerard’s eyes.

"Then you're a lousy guesser."

And with that, he leaned forward and pressed his lips against Frank's. Frank could feel the back of his head getting pushed against the wall and automatically he glued his lips firmly together. For a moment his mind was entirely blank; there was not a single thought in his head, just plain white noise. He zoned out, maybe for a second or two, and he wasn't aware of anything before he felt Gerard's hands on his shoulders, pushing him forcefully against the wall a second time, as though he was emphasizing what he was doing, trying to get a point across. The back of his head and his shoulder blades stung with pain but he couldn't concentrate on it because he'd just started noticing how is body was giving in way ahead of his mind. His body was responding by its own rules, somehow overriding his willpower. Then his guard slipped and he opened his mouth slightly, something Gerard noticed right away; only a split second went to waste before his tongue had already darted past his lips. That's when Frank finally gave in and answered the kiss.

Gerard responded to it as if it was an invitation he had been waiting for all his life. He clasped his hands on each side of Frank's head, buried his fingers into his hair and slid his tongue into his mouth once more. Again he could feel himself getting passively pushed against the wall, and again his shoulders burned with pain. He vaguely thought that this kind of force was almost enough to break somebody's back.

"What I'd guess wouldn't have mattered to you anyway," he breathed in the short space of time where their lips broke apart. "And you sure got a weird fucking way of telling people you like them."

"Well, you're just gonna have to shut up and take it, aren't you?" Gerard replied, placing one hand beneath Frank's jawline while the other one grabbed a firm hold of the waistband of his jeans. With a rough yank he pulled his hips closer.

"Hey, seems like your downstairs brain have been guessing for a while though," he added, smirking at him, before he locked his mouth shut with another kiss, not leaving him with any chance to reply.

That moment somebody's cell phone started ringing, the shrill, almost unfamiliar sound cutting through the air. It was Gerard's. He ignored it, didn't pause for a second to consider picking it up, and eventually the ringing stopped. Then seconds later it rang again. He pulled away with a loud sigh, squeezing his eyes shut in a moment's irritation.

"God fucking damnit," he swore intently and let his hands slip away from Frank's neck and hair. He tore the phone out of his pocket, threw one quick, expressionless glance at the caller ID, and turned away.

"What?" he hissed, his teeth gritted.

Frank didn't dare to move, not even an inch. He appeared to have been pushed so hard against the wall he'd almost become a part of it. His hair felt like it was standing on end and his lips were slightly sore. His shoulders and the root of his neck were aching tremendously, and as he glanced down he realized, with a slight shock, that they actually weren't the only places on his body that were aching. He stared at Gerard's back and shoulders and felt how his heart was hammering crazily against his ribcage, racing at a speed that was almost just as physically painful as everything else.

"And why is that a fucking problem?" Gerard spat at the caller. "Just fix the damn thing!" There was a short pause. "No, all of you are fucking incompetent, and especially you; you were in charge. I don't even wanna know who actually ruined it. Now you listen to me and listen good; I'll be there in five minutes, and I suggest you spend those five minutes feeling sorry for yourself because this is your sorry ass on the line and I'm not the one you want to fuck with right now."

He hung up, ending his brutal rant, and for a moment he was just standing there fuming, his jaws working furiously. Eventually he turned back to Frank and made a gesture with his phone, giving him a brief, apologetic smile.

"Prop issues," he explained. "It's kinda urgent. Apparently I work with idiots."

"Oh. Right. Sure," Frank nodded, putting his hands in his pockets and shrugging awkwardly. He could feel his heart sink, as if he was disappointed, and it scared him a little. All of a sudden he felt extremely embarrassed; he knew he was blushing violently. "I, uhm, I totally understand."

Gerard bit his lip and tilted his head slightly, looking at him. Then he stepped forward and kissed him again, a little less rough this time. It was one long kiss preceded by a second, lighter one, like he wanted to seal the first one.

"Okay," he said, as they broke apart and he pulled away, his voice suddenly falling into more casual tones, "I have to go before they ruin my act completely."

Without further explanations he turned away and headed down the corridor, not stopping once to look over his shoulder.

Frank remained where he was, a little confused, just staring after him until he had disappeared around the corner. Then he let out a heavy, shaky sigh and finally gave in to his already buckling knees. He sat there on the soft, carpeted floor for several minutes, taking in what had just happened. He closed his eyes as the hammering sound of his heart turned weaker and eventually returned to its normal pace, leaving him with a faint, empty feeling. At last he managed to pull himself together and made his way down to his quarters in a daze.