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grxmpygerard · 7 years

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bxrlioz :

“Is it fucked that I’m this happy today?” Bertie asked, inspecting his reflection in the mirror and running his tongue over his teeth just to make sure they were smooth and shiny. He’d brushed them twice, gargled mouth wash and furiously chewed six sticks of Wrigley’s before Marie had wrestled the pack away from him, telling him he didn’t need to knock Gerard out cold with his minty, fresh breath.

He glanced over his shoulder at Taylor who was hunched over the piano, absentmindedly playing a tune with no real enthusiasm. Bertie’s heart dropped a little in his chest, that same guilt playing with his heart strings.

“Because like, I could totally stay at home…” he offered. He knew that Gerard would understand, but when his options for the night were kissing the boy he’d been crushing on for months and moping around the house, it wasn’t a hard decision to make. Yet the day’s significance still had a firm hold on him and his eyes traveled over to the fireplace where a framed picture of the whole Chambert clan resided. His parents smiled back at him with grins he hadn’t seen since he was a kid, and he knew that if Taylor even hinted towards Bertie staying home being the better choice, he’d bow out of the party without question. But his brother turned around and offered him a smile and told him to get his butt over to Peter Eagleton’s house.

With a laugh, Bertie reached out and ruffled Taylor’s bright red hair and shoved his arms into his hoodie - the one that hadn’t seen the inside of a dorm room choked with marijuana fumes. On his way out, he halted by that same picture and bit his lip to fight the growing smile.

“I promise you’d totally understand if you met Ger, guys,” he told the photographed version of his parents. “He’s so great, you’d love him.”

Melancholy threatened to overwhelm him right there, so he hurriedly moved away and thundered downstairs and out the door, brushing past Marie and a ridiculous amount of shopping bags. It didn’t take long for him to reach Peter’s apartment, even if it was in a sketchier part of the Cherry Grove than Bertie’s neighbourhood. As expected, half the football team were sprawled on the lawn grass surrounded by red solo cups and the other half were probably inside screwing rally girls. Bertie didn’t know how long it would take him to find Gerard, but then he spotted the boy lingering at the edge of the driveway talking to someone and his heart gave a giddy leap in his chest. Had he been waiting outside for him?

He hesitated a little, suddenly feeling shy. This would be the first time seeing Gerard face to face with the knowledge that the other boy actually liked him back. Normally, Bertie cruised by on a juvenile sense of hope that Ger reciprocated his crush. Now, he was fully aware that Gerard liked him back and Bertie didn’t know why he was standing around fretting about what to do when he could be over there kissing the guy’s cute face off.

Bertie broke out into a light jog as he crossed the street. Nearing Gerard, the other guy he was talking to became nothing more than a blur as Bertie clapped his hands on Gerard’s shoulders and sprang up onto his back. Given Gerard’s extensive ballet training and how light and scrawny Bertie was, he was more than confident that Ger could hold him, but he’d never have dared to do something like that any other time out of fear of Gerard grumpily dropping him on his ass. He was feeling pretty sure of himself at that moment though because Gerard Cole had a big, fat crush on Bertie Chambert and if he wanted this thing between them to go further then he’d have to accept that spontaneous piggybacks were a thing now.

“Oh my gosh, are you the real Gerard Cole?” he teased, wrapping his legs around the other boy’s torso. His fingers playfully chucked Gerard’s chin.

Well aware he had just interrupted a conversation, Bertie turned to the other guy with an easy smile. He was… pretty good looking. And he knew it if the tightness of his t-shirt was anything to go by. But Bertie didn’t like to think he was a stand-offish person so he remembered his manners and held out his hand.

“Hi. Sorry,” he giggled. “I’m Bertie.”

He tried not to flinch when the other guy, disgruntled at the interruption, grabbed onto him in a handshake that was more harsh than firm. Jesus, was he trying to break his fingers? Letting go roughly, the other guy gave him a s’up nod. The true mark of a douchebag.

“Wassup? I’m Zaylor.”

Oh.

Feeling his blood run cold, the smile on Bertie’s face froze. Sliding pathetically down Gerard’s back, Bertie waited until his sneakers had landed clumsily back on the ground before he awkwardly cleared his throat, eyes darting between Gerard and Zaylor (who was even hotter than Bertie feared), and he reached up to scratch the back of his neck.

“Oops, sorry, I guess I was… interrupting something here,” he said, forcing out a laugh and struggling to make his tone light and carefree.

Gerard was growing increasingly uncomfortable, his eyes aimed at the ground as he willed himself not to meet Zaylor's gaze. He felt uneasy standing next to the boy, despite Zaylor never having actually wronged him. After all, this had been the same boy who'd flirted with Gerard, boosting his ego and encouraging him in the most minor ways. In the strangest sense, he'd certainly helped Gerard feel good – it wasn't often that anybody would so unabashedly flirt with Gerard Cole, he wasn't accustomed to being the subject of somebody else's crush. Not until Bertie, of course, and even then it had taken Gerard far too long to catch up.

The problem with Zaylor, however – aside from his ridiculous name and ever so slightly exhausting personality – was that he'd been nothing but a blip on the radar. Gerard hadn't ever actuallyed wanted anything to unfold between them. He'd liked the thrill of being able to harmlessly flirt with a boy without the additional baggage of feelings, and without having to face his father's wrath on top of that. His growing feelings for Bertie had gotten so out of control and, as always, he'd been so scared he'd thrown up a wall and shut himself off to the only good thing that had ever happened to him. Now, he was trying to make up for that. He and Bertie had finally opened up with one another; he'd thrown caution to the wind and decided that it was time that he allowed himself to be honest, to be happy. Admittedly, his timing had maybe been off, and he felt a little... weird about having taken such an important day in Bertie's life and turned it around on his head, making the world revolve around him, but maybe that's exactly what Bertie needed? He just wanted to provide some semblance of a distraction, maybe even make him smile during an otherwise difficult time, and he couldn't do that with Zaylor standing right there.

“So, cutie. It's been a while since I heard from you,” Zaylor stared, edging closer to Gerard, hooking his pinky finger against the waistband of his jeans.

Wide-eyed, Gerard hopped backwards in surprise, momentarily losing balance as he stumbled through the grass, cringing at the intimate gesture. It was one thing for Zaylor to have flirted, but the way he seemed to think it acceptable for his hands to just roam all over Gerard's body – first gripping his waist, tugging on his jeans, and now his hands spanning the width of his chest, almost as though steadying him and holding him in place – it became all too aware that he'd gotten entirely the wrong impression. Hunching his shoulders and melting away from him, Gerard threw up his palms up, the universal gesture for back off as he retreated.

Zaylor didn't take the hint, however, and Gerard winced as the boy lingered, staring back at him through long lashes, a sultry smile on his lips that only made Gerard's stomach churn. Taking a deep breath, he tried again, hoping this time to work up the courage to tell Zaylor to leave, when he felt a sudden weight against him as two hands clamped down against his shoulders. Given his sudden state of unrest, it took him a little longer to recover than usual, but he had quick reflexes, and he remained rooted to the spot as someone vaulted onto his back.

And that someone was, of course, Bertie.

The second he felt Bertie's hands against his back, his body tangled with his own, Gerard wondered how he could have ever mistaken Zaylor's hands against his waist as the other boy's. There was no familiarity in Zaylor's touch, and yet Bertie's hands against him, his body pressed against his own, it felt so natural. His heart fluttered in his chest at the sound of his voice, feeling his fingers graaze his chin, his cheeks burning all the while. Choking out a laugh, he steadied a hand against Bertie's thigh – his blush grew ever deeper, then – so as to brace the boy against his back, and he shot Zaylor an uneasy glance. He looked pissed, and Gerard found himself half-tempted to spin around on the spot, and to run like his life depended on it, even with Bertie perched on his back.

“Oh, Bertie, actually, this is–” he started, immediately flustering as the two sought to introduce themselves. He didn't want Zaylor to be the first one to get a word in, and his heart clenched in his chest as he thought of the conclusions that Bertie might draw.

It was too late, however, as the two got in their introductions, and Bertie slid ambly down from his back, the tension in his stature evident. Gerard immediately turned his gaze towards Bertie, his mouth opening and shutting repeatedly as he tried to gather the right words. Instead, here merely stared gormlessly between the two boys, who were throwing daggers in one another's direction.

Zaylor was the first to speak after Bertie's apology, and he seemed all too keen to mark his territory. “Yeah, man, you kinda are. Nice meeting you, but if you could just...” he trailed off, flourishing his hands in a shooing motion. He wore a condescending smirk, looking all too pleased with himself, and that was the final straw for Gerard.

His neck wound back in disbelief, his head snapping back and forth between the two before it finally landed on the pretentious douche that stood in front of them. Rising to his full height, Gerard glared at Zaylor, his breathing hitching as he closed the tiny gap between the two of them. At six foot, he towered over Zaylor slightly, and he found himself hoping that he at least presented himself as vaguely intimidating in that moment.

“Actually Zaylor,” he started, his name dripping with venom as the boy's name spilled from his lips. He hoped, against all hope, that he could at least exhibit a little bit of the utter perplexity he felt upon being forced to utter such an unimaginably stupid name before continuing. “I think you need to learn to take a hint and leave. You don't get to talk to Bertie like that, and you definitely don't get to put your hands on me.”

At that, he whirled on the spot, turning his back to Zaylor, never bothering to await his response. His heart pounded in his chest, and it occurred to him that despite his own glum exterior, he very rarely found himself in the centre of a conflict – well, excluding his and Bertie's regular spats.

“C'mon, Bertie. I've been waiting for you, and I think we had a little catching up to do?” he posed, the corners of his lips quirking upwards into a shy smile. He tried feigning confidence, though his stomach was filled with butterflies, and looped his arm around the other boy's waist, pulling him into his side as his fingers grazed his hips.

#moments: bertie5 #bertie

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grxmpygerard · 7 years

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The past few months had been a whirlwind in the world of Gerard Cole. For a boy that, quite frankly, tended to keep himself to himself and avoid social interaction as much as humanly possible – with the rare exceptions of Ruby, Niamh, Sherrie, and Seth – he'd found himself in the company of several friends of late, which hadn't exactly been on the agenda. He wasn't complaining, not really. Blossom had been... a surprising, but entertaining, addition to his life, and Katherine was certainly a welcome one, and everyone in between had only ever treated him with far more kindness than he thought was warranted. All the same, it wasn't his newfound overdose of friends that came as the biggest shock to his system, not by a long shot.

Gerard had known Bertie Chambert for a while now, that much was clear. They'd shared classes together, and had been thrust into the same drama club and forced the share a stage together multiple times. More often than not, however, Gerard was centre stage, while Bertie was in the background working his way to the front. Well, either that, or he'd roll into rehearsals late, his hair mussed, his lips chapped, and an awful waft of marijuana emitting from the boy. It had been the cause of one too many arguments between Bertie and Gerard, the two of them bickering so frequently that by the time it had been announced that they'd be starring in a show together, Gerard was at the end of his tether. His petty attitude towards the brunette wasn't always justified, but he often told himself that it was. He wanted to succeed, and he'd always seen Bertie as an obstacle. He ranted and raved on to Ruby – over text, over the phone, over direct message, facebook message, tweets, tumblr, snapchat, and to her face – about how his lack of drive, his disinterest in their production, and his complete disrespect, was the driving factor behind his frustrations with the boy.

It had taken a lot of time for Gerard to admit the real reason surrounding his consistently terrible mood as far as Bertie was concerned. The truth, in whole, was that Gerard liked him. At first, he'd been jealous – of his talent, his charisma, his charm. And, of course, of the fact that people liked Bertie – if not for his gorgeous brown eyes or curling locks, but for his wide grin and addictive personality. It drove Gerard insane. And then, one day, he'd realised that it wasn't just a jealousy, but a longing. He liked the boy – more than 'liked', in fact, and he had no idea how to process that information.

He knew fine well that his father wouldn't stand for it. If Gerard so much as looked at another boy, he'd be out on his ass. He'd be disinherited and disowned, and outcast from the family entirely. He father didn't stand for pansies. He'd no longer fund his classes – he'd always considered his permission for Gerard to study theatre a kindness, an act of charity – and he'd never so much as look at his son again. Coming out to his parents had been the most horrifying and painful thing that Gerard had ever done, and still he felt as though he were hiding from his own true self, and in his own home, at that. He had no idea what he would do if his father found out about his feelings for Bertie, or what would happen if he acted upon them, but he'd reached a breaking point. To say he didn't care would be an outright lie, but he was tired of living in fear of his father, and that's what had lead him to where he was today; that is, to say, standing awkwardly, dressed up, reeking of cologne that he couldn't even bear the whiff of, and awkwardly hovering at a party that he'd never usually have been caught dead at.

Footballers and cheerleaders surrounded him, and he tried to slip into the crowd as best he could, knowing fine well that he had no place here. He could see Delia in the distance, slipping off with JP somewhere – it only took him one guess to know what they were about to do. The fact that Bertie wasn't tucked up at her side presumably meant that he wasn't here yet, as Gerard had sights on both Izzy and Peter, and still no sign of his boy.

Figuring it probably for the best that he wait outside, so as to get eyes on Bertie the second he arrives, Gerard wandered outside by himself, tugging nervously at the hem of his t-shirt. The lawn was littered with footballers, cheerleaders, and students alike, some tipsy, some drunk, and some just straight up stoned. He ignored them all, feeling sweat trickle down his neck as he thought back to the days events. Admitting to Bertie that he liked him had no been on the agenda for the day, but as much as it scared him, he was glad that he had. Deep and lost in thought of the boy, his body took an involuntary jolt as he felt two hands wrap around his waist. On instinct, his head shot up, a wide smile on his face as he expected to see Bertie, only for his heart to drop in his chest as he came eye-to-eye with Zaylor.

Oh God.

He wriggled uncomfortably under the boy's touch, separating himself from him instantly, his head shooting around as though expecting to see Bertie materialise right before his very eyes. Not now, oh God, not now.

“Uhhhh... Hey– Uh, good to see you, Zaylor,” Gerard lied, through gritted teeth. He winced, before turning his gaze to the floor, his voice feeble as he spoke once more. “I'm, uh... I'm just sort of waiting for someone, so...”

#moments: bertie5 #bertie

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