[SLOW UPDATES] The Stroke of Midnight

Seven.

Blood trailed down pale skin, mixed with salty tears and sweat. The fluids rolled down the skin, dripping off and mixing into the soapy water that was being spread across the floor by the off-yellow sponge. The sponge halted movement, the hand that was grasping it moving to wipe the mix of bodily fluids from the face they were currently smeared on.

Gerard tried to catch his breath as quietly as possible, not wanting to anger his stepmother any more than he already had. He was devastated, terrified, broken. He had never been hit before, and the fact that he hadn't even done anything wrong made everything so much worse for him. The fact that stepmother had come home from her own personal errand, tracking dirt in through the freshly washed floor, and then gotten mad at Gerard for it, beginning to strike him, brought more tears to the boy's eyes.

It had been about a week and a half since the ball at the King's palace, and while thoughts of his prince kept him going, helped him endure the slave-like tendencies of his everyday life, something always had to test his strength, test his patience.

As Gerard began to scrub away the mess he had made on the floor, he heard footsteps coming down the stairs, and his heart began to race in fear. He kept his head down, controlling his uneven breathing as the figure descended to the bottom of the stairs. Gerard hoped and prayed that it was Mikey, coming to maybe check on his progress, but as a pair of black women's shoes came into his vision, he felt dread and fear crawl into his throat.

"Stand up, boy." Stepmother spoke curtly, and Gerard didn't hesitate to put the sponge back into the bucket of soapy water, standing up with shaky knees, keeping his head cast down. Stepmother sighed annoyedly, for what reason, Gerard hadn't the slightest idea.

"I want you to go into town. We're low on produce. You know what to do." She spoke, watching as Gerard merely nodded stiffly, his hands clasped in front of him, still not looking at her.

She raised a hand, taking Gerard's chin between her thumb and forefinger, tilting his head up to make him look at her. Her eyes roamed over his face, noting his bruised nose, the dried blood under one of his nostrils, the cut on his cheek, and the forming bruise surrounding it. Gerard kept his eyes on her chin, not wanting to look into the eyes of the woman who had caused him so much mental and emotional pain over the years, which had now crossed the line into physical pain.

Stepmother scoffed, snatching her fingers away from Gerard's skin, slightly nicking him with her nail in the process. He bit back the wince, hearing her sigh once again.

"Go use some of my make up if you have to. I don't need anyone questioning why that face of yours looks uglier than normal."

Gerard felt more tears threaten to fall, so he ducked his head down, mumbling, "Yes, Stepmother." He quickly began heading up the stairs, biting his lip to silence the whimpers that were threatening to spill from his mouth.

As soon as Gerard was inside his Stepmother's room, he made a beeline for her vanity, trying to just find her concealer and put it on. He wanted to get out of the house, even if it was just for a little bit. He scratched the dried blood off from under his nose, and when he finally located the concealer and looked up to begin applying it, he froze.

He hadn't even thought to look at his face after he had been hit, and now that he was seeing the damage that had been inflicted on him, he couldn't believe it. His nose was beginning to bruise, the bridge tinted a light purple. His cheek was a dark red, and Gerard just knew that the resulting bruise was going to be massive.

Blinking back tears, Gerard applied the concealer over the bruises, feeling beyond upset that he couldn't cover the cut on his cheek. He did the best he could, though, and once he was done, he left the room and raced downstairs, grabbing the wicker basket he always used for produce shopping, and walking out of the front door without a second thought.

Gerard didn't know how he was feeling now. If he was being perfectly honest, he couldn't feel anything. The initial shock and pain of the situation had worn off, and now he just felt numb. As he got closer to the marketplace, he moved some of his hair over his face, trying to look like the most uninteresting person and not draw any attention to himself.

The marketplace was as busy as ever, and Gerard kept his gaze down as he went over to the usual location where Miss Lindsey set up her stall. He bit his lip as he contemplated what he were to tell her if she realized that he was wearing makeup or if she saw the cut, which she no doubt would. It made him shake with nerves, and it only intensified as he saw the stall.

He got even more nervous as he saw a man approach the stall, probably asking for produce, like anyone would at a produce stall. Though, the way he was dressed piqued Gerard's interest. It was like the man did not want to be noticed or spotted, Gerard could especially tell by the man's body language.

Gerard knew he wasn't buying produce when he leant over and grabbed Lindsey's hand, seemingly pleading with her. Lindsey looked conflicted as she stared at the man, and Gerard could tell that she was thinking about what to do next.

Against his better judgement, Gerard quickened his pace, not caring that his hair had blown away from his face, because of the faster pace he had set.

"Lindsey!" Gerard called, putting on a smile and waving as she looked over to him.

Lindsey looked up at him and a genuine smile formed on her face, and her attention was taken away from the suspicious man.

"Gerard, hey!" She greeted, leaning over the produce to give Gerard a sort of half-hug. "How've you been? I haven't seen you around much. We've got stuff to discuss, you know." She said after they had broke away from the embrace, a suggestive tone in her voice as she spoke, one of her perfectly plucked, arched eyebrows raised. 

Gerard blushed and noticed the stranger turn to him, and just stare. He chose to ignore it at first, seeing as the stranger was not a part of the conversation between him and his best friend.

"I know, I'm sorry for not coming around sooner. I really do have so much to tell you." He gushed, feeling the butterflies raise from the dead and begin fluttering around in his stomach.

Lindsey laughed at Gerard's demeanor, making Gerard feel better than he'd felt that entire day. Though, the stranger was still staring at him. It began to get on his nerves, seeing as the man wasn't even saying anything, just staring.

Gerard eventually turned to him, ready to give him a little bit of attitude and ask him why he found his face so interesting, when something made him stop.

It wasn't his conscience, it wasn't the realization that if he were to do that, he would be a bad person. Lindsey didn't stop him. If anything, Lindsey seemed to be waiting for Gerard's next action, not even thinking about deterring him from telling of this man.

What stopped him were the familiar hazel eyes, filled with excitement and adoration, staring back into his own.