It was a club just like any other.
Gerard wasn’t sure what had brought him here exactly; it wasn’t his sort of scene at all. Not even if the music playing was by some of his favourite bands of all time and everyone else was wearing black too. It didn’t matter that this was a club that boasted to have ‘The best alternative night around!’, Gerard still didn’t like it. He was a live music kind of man, he liked going to gigs – whether he knew the band playing or not – he didn’t like going to stuffy, overcrowded clubs where the music was played by a DJ that talked too much.
Gerard sighed and looked down into his beer, feeling quite ashamed of himself as he looked at the liquid. He’d been nursing the bottle between his palms for about two hours now and had still only drank half of it. The crowd he had come with were all on the dance floor, drunk by now, and here he was, sat all alone at a little table at the back of the club where no one would see him let alone join him.
Gerard took a small sip of his drink and grimaced at how warm it had become. He should have drank it sooner he supposed. He pushed the bottle away in distaste and laid his cheek down on his hand. He was in his third month of Art College and he was finding it pretty difficult. He had made plenty of friends, but no matter how much he went out with them or laughed and joked with them he still felt a little like an outsider. He couldn’t figure out why, he just... did.
He supposed the home sickness didn’t help. He missed his friends back in Jersey; he missed his basement room cluttered with things he loved. Packing his suitcase to move to college had been the hardest thing he had ever done, having to pick through his array of possessions and choose the pieces that he needed but didn’t necessarily want. He felt as if he had left a million puzzle pieces of his soul behind. And of course he had left his family behind too... he missed Mikey more than he had thought he would. He was so protective over him he had thought Mikey would find it hardest when he left, but he realised now he was as dependent on his baby brother as Mikey was on him.
Feeling worse than ever Gerard slid his bottle back over to himself and took another swig. He looked back over at the crowd of people dancing and wondered if he should get up and maybe try to join in... But that thought made him feel sick so he quickly forgot it.
As he sat, watching the dancers, Gerard wondered what had possessed him to agree to come out in the first place. He knew full well he didn’t like clubs. He liked gigs, or sitting in bars and chatting to people. Here it was too loud to talk to anyone and it was so crowded he was boiling hot and he wasn’t even moving.
A few more sips of beer gone and none of them making Gerard feel any better he began to consider just leaving. The people he had come with probably wouldn’t notice he had left, and would it even matter if they did? He could just tell them he had felt sick or something.
With this thought in mind Gerard pushed his bottle away and began sliding his arms into the sleeves of his leather jacket. He got to his feet and ruffled his hair, looking about for the best route to the exit but then someone caught his eyes and he fell straight back into his seat.
On the edge of the dance floor, dancing all alone, was the most beautiful boy Gerard had ever seen.
Though the boy had no one dancing with him there were plenty of people around him watching him. He obviously didn’t give a shit no one was with him, and Gerard got the distinct impression he had come here alone in the first place. He was paying no attention to the people watching him, his eyes closed and his head tipped back. He looked for all the world like he was having the time of his life, and Gerard supposed he just really loved dancing.
The boy was quite short, but slender. His hair was interesting, a flat black mohican flopping over one of his eyes with shaved, peroxide blonde sides. He had a small ear stretcher in one ear and a scorpion tattoo glistening wetly on his neck where his sweat was running over it. He was wearing a plain black vest that he had cut so that the hem was just beneath his ribs, exposing the whole of his flat belly and a tattoo that looped around his hips like a belt. Gerard strained his eyes to try and read it but in the dim lighting of the club it was too difficult to decipher the swirly italics.
