(c) Losing Your Face. (M)

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(c) Losing Your Face. (M)

Post by Heartswell. on Tue 16 Sep 2008, 11:25 pm

Naked With the Right People.

Their restless bodies twirled round and round like a disastrous tornado, blowing and sabotaging the gleam of every innocent lifeless object in their way. Mouths welded and arms stubborn, fighting to get a grip on obedient flesh only to find equally stubborn muscle and bone.

Just a one-shot thing where faces are memories and names are needless given or not; just bring your body and loneliness and you're all set.
But leave your heart at home. Because it's as needless as your name.

Now mouths are crushing, clothes are peeling and bodies are shedding every ounce of decency they had beforehand as slam, crack, thud echoed through the room and across every atom of air, beautiful in their sound and scary in how they're done like cracking and breaking wax shells across a bonfire. The smoke gets darker and prettier and the flames get longer and more sinister.

And they're burning up this room.
They're not making any sound in their skulls but still it's spreading like wildfire.

Their messy heartbeats tangled like corrupted drums and the burning fumes of every imprint of every memory bound to crumple with the images of their faces; paper faces forgotten through the night and torn and shredded by the morning with their inky details running in black streaks out of every hole in their bodies; bleeding through noses, dissolving through air and growing cold with separation.

And they merged; merged so hard and so closely that two torsos adhered into one heinous beast screaming pleasure and hurt. A car crash masterpiece in the happening; every new throbbing crease sculpted by a blind hand.


This was never meant to happen. But like every mistake it did. It happened just for the sake of it. They weren't lonely; they didn't need to do it; they just did it for the sake of doing it. No reason at all.
Maybe it was a matter of seeing how they'd match? Maybe it was a matter of fucking things up with a person they didn't even know that well; an odd couple and a collision that wouldn't have happened unless it did. A polar bear meeting a camel over the moon.

Our polar bear was this restless wallflower-boy and our camel was this bored bored outgoing clusterfuck and the moon was... nowhere to be seen. They had to create their own moon to jump over and glide in. Make what could be the biggest mistake of their lives and make something happen; something no-one else thought could happen. Something only two boys that barely know each other could do.

It just happened one night. In the middle of a room packed with scattered faces and eccentric fake laughs.
So awkward and forced like the ticks of an alarm clock; always ticking forward regardless of what they think; time's the one who's putting the rules for this game. But here it's class and politeness. It's all played by the rules of sophisticated bullshitters. The thoughts of one wallflower-boy didn't hinder his smile; had to play it by the rules.
Gerard shakes those thoughts then smiles again; it's not good to let those teenage-angst years spew poison in his mind once more. Years of pointless anger and urges are past him now.
So is all the fun. A voice smirks in the back of his head; you're just boring now, boy. Plain black hair and all this... maturity. You're losing everything you've worked for. You were special; you did things no-one could do. How long will you keep doing it? You're just singing the same words but with different phrases. Lose yourself again; just for the second. Throw it all away. Just. For. A. Second.
And he shakes that voice out again. He's too mature, too cold, too smart to let his fingers wander and fondle even the slightest wisp of those thoughts.

Gerard keeps listening to the laughs and watching the imaginary clock arms move forward in his head. Every ha, giggle and chuckle makes the clock moves faster. And time waits for no-one.
He's cruising through paper faces and garish expressions hoping too find one that isn't too familiar; that isn't too happy and layered with emotions smothered in flawless skin.
Then it hits his ear. A laugh. One single laugh that wasn't in tune to the ticking. Two parts of a second later than the sixth tick. But to him it was even louder than all ticks combined. Louder than the clock itself being crushed and shattered, metal skeleton and glass front and copper springs. Louder than all the guts of time battered and bruised.
He turns his eyes to see a face; an actual unmasked face. Eyes, nose, lips and teeth fully naked it was almost a shameful sight.
Then it struck again. That two-parts-of-a-second laugh that almost blows his eardrums off. And he follows that laugh like a lovesick fool ensuing his lover.

"Hi..." he muttered tapping the shoulder of the boy with the naked face; it's almost shameful that he let it out in the open.

A questioning glance above the shoulder then, "...hi." Those naked lips mouthed back.
Gerard's hands began fidgeting and tugging at the cuffs of his jacket as his eyes looked at the boy: all alone. Laughing all alone and to no-one but himself. The paper masked crowd were facing another paper masked bullshitter, leaving the boy with the off-balanced laugh in desolate grounds; grounds that Gerard personally wouldn't bear to stand in. Without any contact whatsoever and just... alone.
He hated how much he depended on those laughs now. On those bad jokes and on everything he swore he'd never let himself like.
But when you slip in a deep ditch, you only wake up and realize where you're at with either a broken back or a cracked neck. With some big bang and cheap glitter to end up the parade and drag your sorry ass back to reality.

"So what're you doing here...?"


"Okay, so what're you doing here, Pete?" Gerard's smile is all picture-perfect now; painted on like everyone else's. He even added a handshake to the mix. For a better first impression, that's what they say.

Pete looks at his hand; just stares at it like it's from another planet. Then simply takes it in his own and doesn't do anything.
Gerard's waiting for the shake but it doesn't happen and his smile is turning a bit desperate while Pete replies, "Just happened to be here. No reason." He looks up at Gerard's a-bit-too-desperate smile and asks, "what're you doing here then...?"

"Gerard. And I'm basically fitting in. Socializing and the like..." Gerard's thoughts are strangling his smile and his frustrated shudders are taking over while his mind is racing a million miles an hour. What kind of a reason is no reason? Why's he just... staring at my hand?

"Oh..." He's still fumbling with Gerard's slightly shaking fingers and looking down at them like they're the only thing in the world right now, not paying any attention to the other man's uneasy looks.

"Oh?" Somehow he didn't like the sound of that lonely oh.

"It just sounds... boring." It was like the pesky sound in the back of his mind possessed a face and a name now. They even said boring in the same apathetic bored tone.

Gerard merely stood there. Gazing at the boy in his eyes and hushing away the voice in his head; the little naughty devil encouraging him to take a risk and do something bad. And he was doing such a good job stifling that voice until...

"Wanna fuck this up?" The boy with the bedroom browns smiled, holding onto the tips of the other boy's fingers grasping every bit of coldness that clung to his skin. "We should... it'd be so much fun..."

"Fuck what up?" A side of his paper mask tore as he cocked an eyebrow in response.

"This." His smile doesn't change.

"What for?"

"To do something only we could do." Pete's smile is burning caves and bats into his eyes as he follows the boy without a word.
Go let loose. It's not often that you fuck up when you want to. Gerard hears the last of that that voice chuckling before it retires and curls behind his sleeping conscience.

Let loose.
Pete was that little devil now. And devils come in the prettiest shade of anarchy-red.


Then they're back here again. Breaths crippling out of their throats desperate for a good reason but they crawl back in when all they see is chaos chaos chaos of sex sex sex and more sex shining through both of their eyes.
It's not that they had to do it. It's that they wanted to. It's not sex sex sex like those poor breaths thought they saw. It was a big 'fuck you' to the paper-faced people and the clock arms laughers
Burning burning burning flashes and clinging and sweating; sweating like they're melting. Then electric cherrybombs start to explode in the back of their minds. It hurts but the bright lights make it worth it.
And they're done.

They've done it. Fucked things up with a total stranger just for the sake of it. Diving off a cliff just to taste the bits of your own tongue shredded by what's left of your teeth and the taste of acrid rust plunging to the back of your mouth.

"We both make music, right? You make words and I make words, right? But these are the only beats that you and me share. A freak accident is what happened now." The bored bored outgoing clusterfuck exhales out syllables as he collapses under the other body, his face glowing with the joy you get from children watching pretty flames torching things; he was mesmerized, he was proud, he had fucked up.

"A polar bear and a camel over the moon." Gerard nibbles on his bottom lip as he mumbles the words right out of his thoughts, eyes closed and mind afar. Soaring, he was. Who thought letting loose meant spraying his paper face in gasoline, sending it aflame and pissing on it altogether?

He never felt more alive. More naked. More messed up. And he loved every second of it.
This wasn't about sex. This was about doing something so wrong that it makes everything else sound right.
He had a naked face too now.

"Exactly." Pete's smile widen as he takes the older man's hand and wraps it around himself.
This was a huge mistake. And he'd never change it for the world.


Incase you haven't followed the formant it's Present-Flashback-Present. Just if you got confused. you have pleased him

checked. chester.
Red Scare

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