Chapter Text
the office practically shivered as Frank bustled through the thick glass doors of the marketing floor, shoulders already drawn up into a knot. the coffee cradled in the crease of his bent arm sloshed dangerously close to the open lip of the lid, threatening to lap up onto his shirt as he stalked towards his desk. he was thoroughly rattled, shoving his small bag on top of his chair and all but hurdling the flimsy paper cup onto the little coaster he’d snagged from a house party years back.
his morning has gone pretty smoothly til he got to the building. he’d woken up earlier than usual, giving him a bit of time to spare, showering and getting ready at a much more leisurely pace than he normally would, stopping at his favorite coffee shop and chatting up the girl who manned the register most mornings. it was all very civil, domestic in a way he never felt. he felt like he fit into the ecosystem of the city instead of sticking out like a sore thumb in the crowd, bristling passers by.
that was, until he walked up to the main office door and felt a dismal ping from his back pocket. he had assumed it to be his roommate, telling him they were out of laundry detergent or let him know he’d be home late.
instead,
Please see me at 8
-G. Way
no punctuation, no context, just a clipped, unreadable line from a man two floors above him. he was far enough to intimidate, but close enough to screw Frank’s entire day.
Frank was good at reading people, he thought. when life decides to make you it’s joke, you learn to understand ques quicker than most, pick up on shifts and inuedos. he could pin practically everyone he worked with. everyone except for Gerard Way.
Gerard was higher in the company than Frank could ever imagine to be, and he wasn’t sure he’d ever desire it with the way the man conducted himself. he was the director of three departments, including Franks, and sure as hell acted like it. he wasn’t smug per se, but he seemed rigid from the few times Frank had the displeasure of finding himself in his office.
it made Frank want to shrink up thinking about it, being stared at, scrutinized, picked apart in a way that was so thorough that maybe under different circumstances he might even crave it. he however pointedly did not crave it from his boss. he always held an expression that always sat uncomfortably between stern and saintly, and Frank coudn’t even pretend it didn’t make his skin crawl.
hunched over his desk and clicking his computer alive, he checked the time; 7:48.
perfect, just enough time to calm himself a bit and meander his way to Mr. Way’s office. though, not really.
he sucked in a greedy breath in hopes it would settle the shaking in his chest— which didn’t help as much as he hoped— and took a pitiful sip of his coffee. in his frazzled state, it tasted too sweet, had gone just a little too cold to settle his nerves right.
so, trechorously, Frank marched back towards the doors and out to the stairwell. he could easily take the elevator and save himself the trekk, but part of him wished only to prolong the wait, to put distance between himself and whatever he might be in trouble for now.
he couldn’t have at least said why? or at the very least a fucking greeting? Frank’s jaw flexed as he began scaling two flights of stairs. no, he reminded himself, Mr. Way never wasted words. he never raised his voice, never explained what he meant until the very moment he chose to, and by then he had already thrown everyone around him off kilter. he had a way of spinning people into a nervous frenzy, and Frank was no exception.
by the time he reached the top step, Frank was huffing slightly, but he seemed to have worked some of his nerves out. it did remind him how embarrassingly out of shape he was though. there was no time to dwell on that now though.
pushing the stairwell door open, Frank’s eyes flicked down to his watch. 7:57.
taking one more shaking breath, he knocked heavily on the sturdy door plated with Gerard’s name and title. it only made him shudder again before he heard a voice through the glass window.
“come in,” rang lowly.
his hand hesitated above the handle before finally twisting it and opening the door to step in. and as soon as he did, Frank bristled like a cat with it’s fur fluffed up.
something about the office was so off putting. it was too calm, too serene for how it made his throat bob. the lights in the rest of the building were sterile and bright white, casting his coworkers in gaunt shadows that made each of them look like zombies— Frank felt it fitting, that was how working here felt sometimes— but Gerard’s office was lit warmly, the overhead light switched off in exchange for yellow tinted lamps around the room. it was tidy too, not even a single paperclip out of place, a sharp contrast to Frank’s own desk, where post it notes created geologic landmarks on his desktop and open calendar. it felt like a place that should feel homely, somewhere safe enough to fall into without fear of shatter.
but that was the exact opposite of how Frank felt.
Gerard stood by the window, looking out upon the city, hands tucked neatly behind his back. the morning light hit him in such a way that he seemed to almost glow. fifty-something, tall, composed, sleeves rolled up just enough to seem disarming, taking off just a bit of the edge. still, his face held that same expression: almost solemn, but never truly cold.
“good morning.” Gerard said steadily.
Frank wrestled out a, “morning, sir.” but he was sure his irritation and nerves made it come out far sharper than he intended.
glancing over his shoulder, Gerard gestured to the seat on the outside of his desk. “have a seat.”
Frank swallowed, sitting down stiffly, his hands folding into his lap as he tried to make himself small. maybe he could be small enough to simply shrink away from the situation. heat boiled under his skin, but he reminded himself to be on his best behavior and play nice. the man could send him out of the company with the wave of his hand.
“i’ve reviewed your campaign projections,” Gerard stated, taking his time turning and walking slowly towards his desk. “they’re strong. precise.”
a short breath fell from Frank’s throat like the wind had been knocked out of him. he blinked, trying to decipher whether he was dreaming or not. “thank you.” he managed.
“however,” Gerard continued, taking a seat and still somehow looking like he towered above Frank, “you’ve been revising numbers without informing your immediate supervisor.”
there it was. the rug had been yanked right from under him so quick he wondered if he physically flinched.
heat flashed up the back of Frank’s neck as he cleared his throat in attempt to sound steady. “i only adjusted them because no one was responding.” he insisted, “and the client-”
“i’m aware.” Gerard’s voice stayed maniacally calm, cutting Frank’s explanation short without any force— just firm inevitability. “you handled the urgency well, but you and i both know this isn’t the first time you’ve acted independently.”
“independently.” the word worked over Frank’s tongue in a slow, rough roll. “right.”
Gerard studied him for only a moment before speaking again. “you’re quick, Frank, passionate. but impulsive decisions-”
“-saved us from losing the contract.” Frank cut in before he could hold his tongue.
the silence that followed was heavy. and insistent.
Frank’s breath caught, his lips pressing firm together like he could retract the words. shit.
Gerard didn’t scowl or scold him, he didn’t even raise an eyebrow. he didn’t react the way Frank wanted him to, he simply folded his hands atop his desk and stared. stared, with that awful, unreadable expression that made Frank feel like he was being sawed in two, like a man observing a flame to see how high it might burn.
“that.. fire, of yours,” Gerard spoke softer now, like a secret, “is an asset. but only when directed properly.”
Frank averted his eyes, anger bubbling up higher until he was sure it could be seen under his skin. it mixed with something else though, a weird tightness in his chest that he couldn’t quite pin down. he wished he could smother it, snuff it like that ‘fire’ Gerard spoke of.
“i’m not saying you were wrong.” Gerard clarified, “but i am saying that you can’t continue to bypass the chain of command.”
Frank’s jaw clenched so hard it ached. “understood.” he gritted out as best as possible. his cheekd felt alight, burning up from embarrassment and near deafening frustration.
Gerard’s gaze softened almost imperceptibly, the small shift of posture. “i’m not trying to reprimand you, Frank.”
“well,” Frank muttered, eyes downcast, “it sure feels that way.”
Gerard paused, staring again. he didn’t seem offended, but concerned. and that somehow made Frank tense even further.
with and almost silent sigh, Gerard stood. “good work on the projections,” he stated. “just be more cautious in the future.”
Frank shot up quickly, the chair stuttering against the carpet. “yes sir.” his tone was light, obedient, but clipped in a way that did nothing to hide his annoyance, even from himself.
he didn’t bother looking back as he walked out, tunnel vision locked on getting out of the suffocating room as quickly as possible. the moment the door clicked shut behind him, he released a breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding, pressing a shaky hand to his forehead.
great. perfect. fucking amazing.
now not only was he embarassed and irritated, but the sound of Gerard’s calm voice reverberated in his head like a haunting echoing. it only worked to make him feel ten times worse. and checking his watch to find it was barely 8:20 practically made him lightheaded.
pushing off the door, Frank started down to the hall towards the stairwell. each step echoed like a gunshot in the quiet, repeating sour thoughts through his head the entire way down.
pausing before his floor, Frank could only hope he didn’t look too desheveled. he smoothed his palm over his face in attempt to wipe away the embarrassed flush lingering and brushed a hand through his hair. he was sure it wouldn’t convince anyone, not even himself, but it calmed him if only for a moment.
pushing through, he was immediately met with an obnoxious voice in his ear:
“Frank, where have you been?”
staring back at his supervisor, Frank felt like he could snap right in two. the man always had a knack for appearing at the worst possible moment, chin jutting out, voice too loud, tie too bright, ready like he’d been rehearsing the reprimand since dawn. it was going to be a long Friday.
and boy was it.
the rest of the morning dragged on miserably, each task niggling under his skin like a rock getting stuck in the sole of your shoe. every time Frank adjusted the campaign, his supervisor would show up over his shoulder with a slew of new passive aggressions. every time he tried to focus, there was Mr. Way’s maddeningly calm voice pounding into his skull, replaying, reminding him— i’m not trying to reprimand you Frank— and it rankled all over again.
he hated the way it stuck with him. hated the way it made his face burn hot with embarrassment all over again.
around noon, the team was called into an impromptu meeting that Frank was sure could have been an email. Frank sat with his hands laced tightly together and his leg bouncing restlessly beneath the table as his supervisor droned on and on “communication pipelines” and “maintaining departmental harmony”. he knew it was directed at him, even without cold eyes staring him down from the head of the table. still, he nodded, played nice, and was the first out of the door once the meeting was adjourned.
lunch didn’t make him feel any better. he sat at his desk, picking at a salad he didn’t want, his teeth gritting so hard that the grindings of them might as well have been his meal.
his coworkers chatted happily about weekend plans, laughing as they passed, not seeming to pay any mind to Frank’s anger stewing. he couldn’t even pretend to join in, the anger from the morning had settled like sediment and the heat of his blood seemed to be cementing it there, and he was too busy trying to unclench his muscles enough to relax.
by mid-afternoon, his patience had been worn to it’s last thread. a client had called to make last minute adjustments, and Frank’s manager had insisted on joining the call to ‘assist’, which truly meant cutting Frank off and inserting himself in somewhere he didn’t really belong which in turn resulted in two times the work and none of the speed. it was a grinding reminder that Frank was no longer allowed to make decisions without permission first. he typed harder than necessary, pressing his fingers down on the keyboard like it would be felt by his trespassers.
by 4:37 he finally leaned back in his seat, dragging a hand down his face like he could wipe off the day from his skin. he was exhausted, tense and fed up with the world.
then, because the world, it seemed, wasn’t done making a mockery of him, a soft ping rung from his inbox.
From: G. Way
Subject: Follow-up
Frank stared at it like he might snap it in two. he was almost sure his eye twitched.
he didn’t open it. he physically couldn’t. not yet at least. not when it made his chest tighten. not when the morning still clung to him like a parasite.
pushing his chair back from beneath the desk, he stood, deciding he needed a five minute walk to burn off the nerves still simmering below. his legs felt stiff as he paced the hallway, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. he tried to breathe, tried the techniques he’d learned to regulate himself; in through the nose out through the mouth, what he could hear, see, smell. tried anything to shake off the frustration that wanted to leech the life out of him.
by 5:12 he logged off, shut down his monitor, and reached for his bag. he didn’t bother saying goodbye to anyone as he slipped out the door.
the elevator ride was quiet and long. the soft music that played was too low to be soothing, so he instead focused on watching the number descend. his jaw ached as it clenched, shoulders hunched like he was bracing for impact.
as he finally walked out the main doors, he heaved an exhale that he seemed to have been holding all day, but even that didn’t completely shake the frost off. sourness sat heavy on his tongue, tension strung up in his chest. the trekk to the parking lot felt like a mile with how it stretched.
pulling his phone from his pocket, he glanced at the too-bright screen. the unread email still sat in his notifcations, taunting him.
with a huff, he shoved his phone back into his pocket and started fishing his keys out of his bag.
finally making it to his car, Frank opened the door and after settling in, he just sat still for a moment. he felt the day wash over him like heavy waves finally slowing down, a tide pulling itself back off the shore so he could finally breathe.
it seemed that the longest day of his life began and ended with Gerard Way. what a fucking treat.
checking the time on his watch, Frank sighed again. there was still enough time in the day to let himself relax a little. but truly, he knew himself. he knew what he needed.
...
when Gerard finally surfaced from glaring at his desktop, he found himself shaking a pen between two fingers without even truly realizing he’d grabbed it. it was a small, restless kind of movement, the kind of subtle agitation he usually kept swallowed down. with a soft sigh, he sat it down, reclining in his seat a bit to stretch. his eyes wandered to the top corner of the screen, shocked to find the bright numbers glaring 8:17 PM at him— almost electric, judging in their sharpness.
chewing his bottom lip for a moment, he decided he should probably get out of the office. if he left now he might actually be able to get to sleep at a reasonable time, something he had been attempting— and failing— to do for the past week and a half. the day had worn him thin in the way long days had a tendency to, stretching out in some places, snapping tight in others.
but something gnawed at him, that nagging, insistent worry. and, impulsively, he checked his email one last time.
there were a couple junk emails, a couple from upper management that he’d been CC’ed on, a few files sent for approval. the usual end of day noise. but there was a conclusive lack of response from what he had sent to Frank Iero hours ago.
he stared at the blank white screen for far longer than necessary.
he supposed it was to be expected; he had sent it rather late in the day and it was easy to assume the younger man was busy finishing up for the day. still, he found himself worrying at his bottom lip again, unable to let go of it. it was a habit as old as time, but one he rarely let slip in front of others.
though, there was nothing to do about it until Monday, so he simply shut down the computer and stood from the desk— a few joints cracking in protest as he straightened. the sound practically echoes, doing nothing but alerting him of how quiet, how still, the office had grown around him. it was calm in that eerie sort of way.
closing the blinds of the window, he peered out upon the city. the sky was dark but lit up by buildings and lights so bright it almost gave him a headache. cars creeped along the main avenue like rows of ants.
breath left him in a long exhale.
Gerard gathered up his coat and shrugged it on with the weariness of somebody who didn’t know how tired they were until they stood. his briefcase clicked shut with a familiar finality, and he flicked the lamp on his desk off, dimness swallowing the room whole.
padding through the hallway, the soles of his shoes thudded muted against carpet. the entire floor was wholly deserted, office doors gaping and dark like open mouths. he’d stayed too late again— like usual— but he had always found it easier to work in silence.
as he reached the elevator, he pressed the call button and shifted as he waited, listening to the mechanic hum of the shaft. his mind wandered, unbidden, back to the morning. to tight shoulders, to sharp eyes and sharper words. to agitation coiled into the form of professionalism. he’d seen it written all over Frank that morning. he could almost feel the heat of his eyes.
he understood how Frank felt that morning, knew what it was like to feel as though you’re working against the grain. he had been there before too, years back, hunched over a desk computing numbers like a robot. he admired it, in a way, but when complaints came in, it had to be addressed.
when the elevator opened up, Gerard stepped into the tight reflective box. his own reflection stared back at him in mirrors. he looked far more tired than he imagined, hair mussed from combing fingers through it and under eyebags like pits. he straightened his tie absentmindedly, then let his hand fall.
arriving on the ground floor, Gerard stepped out into the lobby, lights dim, the security desk manned by a familiar guard who nodded towards Gerard without a word. he lifted his hand with a polite smile in response before tucking his head and walking across the marble floors to duck out the thick glass doors.
as the night air brushed him, Gerard hummed a quiet sigh, a sharp gust of wind clearing the office air off his clothes. shadows pooled below rows of cars as he walked down the lot towards his silver sudan. the soft clink of metal from the keys in his hand broke up the silence of the night.
unlocking the door, the car gave a startling chirp. but before he got in he paused, one hand on the roof of the car as he peered towards the building. it glowed more from the outside, lights peering through windows on every floor, including the marketing floor.
he hesitated, but only for a moment.
then he sighed, shook his head at himself, and finally slid into the driver’s seat, closing the door with a quiet thud. the engine turned over.
…
standing at the edge of a dungeon was not how Gerard had planned to spend his evening. the very thought made his stomach turn in knots, surreal shadows, buzzing from down below, and yet he stood at the mouth of dark painted stairs that glowed in amber light with a slew of noises echoing off the walls.
he had gone home, made dinner, took a shower, relaxed. he even put on a tv show and laid in bed for a while, willing himself to fall asleep until 11 PM. he was so exhausted. the bone deep kind, the kind of tired that made his limbs feel like sand bags had been tied around them, feeling like he was sinking into the mattress. but he simply couldn’t shut his mind off. every time he closed his eyes, something in his chest tightened and his mind would cycle through the entire day over and over. it kept him pacing eternally even after the lights had been flicked off.
it was a mental battle the entire time, from getting out of bed, to getting dressed and finding his gloves and mask, all the way through the drive there. he’d fought himself every step of the way— you don’t need this tonight, you’re too tired for this right now, you’re being ridiculous. and yet, his limbs moved on their own, muscle memory kicking in so heavily that he moved almost on autopilot, practiced. the comforting ritual slid over him like armor; slick gloves sliding into place over his fingers, the cool mask that hid his face, the clicking of buckles he could do and unfasten in his sleep.
but somehow, against all odds, found himself smoothing down a pencil skirt in the locker room of the club and then made his way downstairs. it clung perfectly to his hips, the fabric crisp under his covered palms, tight enough to cut into the fat of his bare thighs, encased in dark stockings. his shirt was tucked neatly into the waistband with a bright red scarf tied under the collar, the mask lending him to the kind of anonymity that made him sharper. a version of himself that was carefully orchestrated, cut into clean lines and poised intent.
and now, he stood at the top of the heavy stairs leading to a glow below, where the floor thrummed with a kind of base that was unmatched anywhere else. it was more crowded than when he would usually arrive but late enough that it was still relatively quiet. shadows pulsed across the walls, making the entire place feel like it waas breathing.
Gerard inhaled once.
he wouldn’t usually come this late. or this tired.
but he hoped, though it may be futile, that grounding himself in something he was comfortable in would ease whatever had settled just beneath his skin.
and so he descended.
the air seemed to shift with each step, it became thicker, headier, full of tannin, cologne and leather, smoke and the sweetness someone’s perfume. the deeper he got the more the noise in his head quieted, like just being in this space cleared the fog, and by the time he left the bottom step he felt like he might actually belong in his own body again.
the room opened for him the way it always seemed to, like the building itself knew he needed this, velvet alcoves, dimly lit corners, shadows dancing across the walls like currents in the water between furniture. there were couples scattered about, some just sitting together, murmuring to one another, some partaking in the slew of activities offered downstairs. across the room, someone straightened a post at the sight of Gerard, as if to get his attention. he simply nodded his head and lifted a dismissive hand; he wasn’t here in search of company. not tonight.
he clicked slowly towards the bar, the polished floor echoing beneath each step. every movement felt heavy, so loud it was almost deafening, but for the mot part nobody paid him much mind. it was easy to slip like that, between the crowds into the outskirts to simply observe.
as he approached, he caught the eye of a stout, bright haired woman behind the bar, seeing her warm smile as he neared. he’d known the girl for years, in the way that service workers learn the names of regulars without asking about many other details. she switched a towel from one hand to the other, drying a shiny glass.
“long day?” she asked, sliding a glass of water his way.
Gerard just let out a muffled sound of agreement, unwilling to unzip the mouth of his mask just yet, still he brought the glass closer just to have something in his hands.
she gave a little sympathetic smile but nodded, not pushing further. she never did. Gerard appreciated it. it was one of the reasons he liked coming here.
as he settled into his place at the bar, his shoulders finally began to loosen if only by an inch. he took short glances around the place, noting the positions of acquaintances, of anyone who might bother to strike up a conversation. he was by no means a new face in the scene, he’d been around before this place was even constructed.
while sweeping the place, something— or rather someone— caught his eye. towards the front of the main room, there was what looked to be a young man suspended above a platform by thick, sturdy ropes. he didn’t have the best view from his standpoint but moving a seat or two closer, he could make out the general build and looks of the young gentleman.
the boy looked to be wearing a pup mask, probably leather by the looks of it, with sharp looking ears and silver ring accents. it was a full face mask, leaving only his dark hair sticking out, but even that looked sweat slicked and stuck to his skin. and oh god his skin.
he appeared to be covered in sprawling tattoos that covers the majority of his upper body. his back was relatively clear, but a few designs could be made out with closer inspection. the dark ink was contrasted by the bright green ropes knotted around his entire body. whoever did them was clearly fairly skilled, winding the designs around his arms and chest, all the way down to his thighs. it was then that Gerard truly took into account that the young man was almost entirely nude save for a jockstrap and large clunky looking boots. his skin practically glimmered with sweat, the bright lights beating down on him. beside him were two doms seemingly taking turns spanking and toying with the boy.
Gerard couldn’t pin down why he seemed to be so infatuated with the young man, but suddenly his skin felt hot beneath his mask, forcing him to look away.
“he’s been up there for at least an hour.” a voice interrupted.
looking over, Gerard was relieved to realize it was just the bartender, apparently taking notice of his staring.
“there’s been a couple different guys up there with him, doesn’t seem like he belongs to anyone in particular. i’m not completely sure who really suspended him in the first place, he was like that when i started my shift.” she explained, quizzing Gerard in.
an hour. at least. even the thought of being bonded for that long made Gerard’s head spin, but especially in the air, and with different partners. it made him shiver.
nodding in acknowledgement of the woman, he turned his gaze downwards and back to the glass sweating against his latex gloves, centered himself in the tight feeling of it pressing against every contour of his skin, reminded himself of the thick black material sheilding his face from the rest of the room. he’d like to pretend it made him anonymous, like half of the regulars here hadn’t learnt to recognize him by his usual get-up. he wondered absently if the pup— stranger, a complete stranger— had noticed him at all, knew of him in any capacity.
he refocused on the glass of water, suddenly deciding to unzip his mouth and take a quick sip as his throat had gone suddenly dry. the cool liquid soothed and let him wet his lips before closing himself again.
Gerard was decidedly looking away from the stranger, listening to the sounds around himself; indistinguishable chatter, an ice shaker rattling from behind the bar, the flick of a lighter nearby, music thrumming low beneath it all, and faint cracks from a whip somewhere far off. he shuddered to the sound, gripping slightly harder to his glass. he could ignore it, ignore him. he was here to settle his nerves, not stoke the fire raging in his chest.
but from the platform he could hear the sound of leather slapping against skin, muffled gasps and numbers being croaked from a shredded, tender throat.
he could feel the way eyes lingered on him— curious, assessing, knowing— reading more than they let on, but nobody said a word. thank god for silent mercies.
fixing on the sprawling grain of the wood on the bartop, Gerard felt him relax into the lull of dull conversation surrounding him, his shoulder slumping incrementally. he perked up only at the odd shoulder tap of long time acquaintances or a squeeze from friends as they entered. he responded with a nod or slightly leaning into the hold, not words. not right now.
for at least thirty minutes, he sat still like that; quiet, calm, letting the frayed edges of his nerves soften into something managable. in doing so, he finally felt the effects of the day wearing on him. a weighty exhaustion draped over him like a coat, seeping into his muscles, easing the crease that had set between his brows, almost smothering. it must’ve been past midnight by then. there goes getting to bed early.
the sharp startling sound of fingernails clicking the bartop in front of him brought him back. looking up, the bartender was looking expectantly at him. tilting his head, Gerard gave a questioning look. she usually never minded letting him sit without buying more than water, but if he had to, buying a whiskey wouldn’t hurt. nursing it would buy him at least another hour of solitude.
but she nodded, directing his attention behind himself.
as Gerard turned, a mild irritation pulsed through him,
seeing the younger man from earlier. still hanging there. alone now, seemingly abandonded by the two working him. head slumped forward, body limp, seemingly unbothered by his position.
something uncomfortable turned in his stomach.
“i’m a little worried about him,” she commented, almost too sugary, like she was building up to press him into a situation he definitely had not intended to be in, “and.. i can’t leave the bar. mind going to check for me?” she asked, giving a toothy grin with her shoulder raised, like she was trying to seem innocent.
he shot her a look that could kill, so flat it could have been used as a level. even through the thick rubber of his mask, Gerard’s deadpan was obvious.
she pressed her hands together against the wood. “come on, just check on the kid for me? if you can at least get him down i’ll send somebody to clean up, you don’t have to do anything else, swear.”
Gerard glared at her for a long, uncomfortable beat.
he should have just said no.
he wanted to say no.
he hadn’t come to get involved in some stranger’s scene, certainly did not come to play savior for some reckless kid that didn’t know his own limits. this had nothing to do with him, it wasn’t his problem. and it definitely wasn’t his responsibility.
but her eyes were wide and earnest, worried in the way someone who has seen one too many scenes go wrong can be.
Gerard exhaled long through his nose, glancing over his shouler once more. he was minorly concerned about the kid passing out, and he was sure he’d feel guilty if he didn’t go. damn him and his morals.
he was just checking. just making sure he wouldn’t faint or something equally as idiotic.
he told himself he didn’t care.
looking back at the bartender, he sighed, slouching.
“fine.” he said, the answer so muffled she almost didn’t catch it.
pushing off the barstool, he sucked his bottom lip between his teeth, worrying at it with each step towards the platform. his eyes stayed trained to the floor, watching the polished wood pass with every inch closer.
the air itself seemed to warp around him as he approached, thickening around him, like he could feel the heat radiating off this kid in waves. even the lights seemed dimmer the closer he got. maybe it was his imagination, but he swore he could feel the stranger’s exhaustion from 6 feet away.
just checking. he reminded himself.
he rounded to the platform, glancing up. his jaw clenched beneath latex, his fingers balling into a fist. he couldn’t ignore him now.
stepping up onto the platform, he really could feel the heat radiating off of him, he was like a human space heater. he could see the tiny tremors of muscle protesting the strain of gravity, from fatigue or maybe adrenaline crash, maybe both. his body almost shook from the force of his breathing. his hair stuck damply to his skin, which looked like it had been coated in glitter with the way the light hit his sweat. Gerard ignored it for now, right now he needed to get this kid verticle.
he reached out momentarily before thinking better of it. instead, he stepped in front of the boy, crouching so he could be at eye level with him. there was no reaction until Gerard cleared his throat, the stranger’s tired eyes flicking up in time to watch Gerard unzip his mask.
“hey there, pup.” he spoke soft enough for only the stranger to hear, now bringing his hand up to gently touch the cheek of the stranger’s mask.
the other man hummed in response, most likely too out of it to use words. Gerard could work with that. he'd dealt with less before.
“you doin’ okay?” he asked, pressing a hand beneath the boy’s chin to help some of the strain on his neck. he visibly relaxed into the touch.
he made a quiet grumbling noise, which Gerard decided to take as a no.
humming, Gerard’s eyes flicked quickly to his neck. “do you have a master, sugar?”
the stranger shook his head no.
“well, i’m going to get you down and get you cleaned up if that’s alright?” he spoke slow, trying to be sure he understood every word. after a moment or so, he nodded the best he could while leaning his weight against Gerard’s hand.
with a soft smile, Gerard stood again.
he quickly got to work loosening one of the stabilizing lines, feeling the tension change. the stranger let out a quiet, almost pained noise. Gerard understood this was definitely not going to be the most comfortable process, but it was necessary, especially after how long he seems to have been up. still, his jaw tightened.
“this will be easiest if you stay still, pup.” he made sure to keep his tone light but firm, hands continuing to work all the while.
the boy obeyed, letting his body fall slack in the binds once more.
working through the harness system, Gerard quietly talked him through it, his fingers staying steady through even the tougher knots. the platform’s lights cast long shadows down and across the boy’s back, highlighting the tattoos scattered about his skin and the rise and fall of breath, the slight shake in his legs as loop after loop were released.
too long, Gerard decided, he’d been up here too long.
as the final rope shifted and fell away, the stranger practically collapsed into Gerard’s arms, sagging his weight against his chest. it was more weight than he had expected, his muscles were obviously barely holding him upright, but Gerard caught him on instinct, one arm bracing around his torso. the hold was intimate but necessary for them both to not fall.
“easy now.” Gerard murmured. “i’ve got you now.”
the stranger’s breath hitched, soft and helpless but seemingly grateful.
Gerard swallowed hard, shifting the boy closer to his chest to hold him up straight.
it’d been a long night.
and a longer day before that.
and now he was holding a weak stranger in his arms, in a club he shouldn’t have even come to, feeling something heavy pulling in his chest.
clearing his throat, Gerard adjusted his grip, guiding the boy to stand on his shaking, unsteady legs.
“lets get you to an aftercare room.” he mumbled, maybe more to himself.
...
the walk was awkward at best, consisting of Gerard half-dragging, half-supporting the stranger down the long corridor. after about four minutes of that, Gerard gave up entirely and hoisted the boy up bodily into his arms and resting him on his hip as if he were carrying a toddler. he had neglected the fact that toddlers were much lighter than fully grown men, and wobbled for a moment before steadying himself. it was overall easier for both of them, and seemingly appreciated judging by the way the younger man curled his legs against him and gave a weak hum, but it did nothing to ease the prying eyes of those around standing in pockets. Gerard recognized the looks, curiosity, maybe a little impressed, not particularly judgmental but wholly nosy all the same.
he made the conscious decision to ignore every one of them, hyper focused on his destination.
only once the hallway began to thin did Gerard slow his pace a bit, rounding a corner to the hall of aftercare rooms. he had to walk all the way to the end before finding one open, nudging it with his foot and carrying the boy inside. he lowered him slowly onto the small couch— which, to Gerard, was comically reminiscent of a chaise lounge— and stepped back. turning to the door, Gerard slid the bright red Occupied marker into place with a click that felt deafening in the near silent room.
with his face close to the wood, he let out a deep, steadying sigh and braced himself against it with one hand.
the quiet pressed around him like a boa constrictor.
Gerard didn’t turn at first.
he kept his hand pressed to the cool, sturdy border, eyes shut, breathing so deeply it was what reminded him his mask was still unzipped. his hand flinched as if to close instincually close it, but he fought the urge, realizing it would be best— and maybe most calming for the stranger— for him to talk the younger man through what he was doing.
the presence behind him was loud in the silence, the soft hitch of breath and the uncomfortable rustling of worn muscles and sore skin trying to settle against fabric.
finally, he pushed himself from the door and turned back toward the far wall, and the young man lying there laden.
he was slumped, head resting weakly against the wall, chest rising and falling in uneven bursts. without the harsh lighting of the main room, he looked smaller somehow, more vulnerable. he was no longer just a body molded into an exhibit, but a person again. a tired person. a person who needed tending from another, and somehow Gerard was shoved into that role.
swallowing and stepping forward, Gerard spoke lowly:
“alright,” his voice a so soft it wouldn’t be audible if there was even a low fan startling noise into the room, “you’re done now. just relax a little.” he crouched in front of the couch, trying to make himself seem a little less intimidating.
through the stranger’s mask, he saw his eyes flick to Gerard’s, taking in his form in long swipes. slowly, the younger man nodded his acknowledgement and let his head fall back against the cushion.
standing again, Gerard made his way to the small cabinet that resided in each of the rooms— they were kept stocked with basic essentials for post-scene come downs; water bottles, unscented lotion, wipes, and, most importantly, a generic Zinc Oxide balm for soothing cuts and abrasions. Gerard grabbed a bottle, wipes, and the balm, and shut the cabinet softly, bringing them back to where the younger man sat.
his head rolled with the slow lag of frayed nerves, following each of Gerard’s movements carefully before falling heavily against the couch backing.
crouching again, Gerard raised the water in offering. though after a moment of watching the younger man struggle to focus, he tilted his head, rethinking his approach. he sat the bottle on the floor beside himself.
his voice stayed low, slow and coaxing.
“can i take this off of you?” he asked, his hand sliding to the back of the stranger’s head, thumb brushing against the first buckle of his mask. the movement was slow and careful, but sure.
the reaction was immediate, like instinct. the younger man weakly shoved himself backwards, panic surging through his tired muscles just enough to jolt his entire body in protest. the movement was sloppy, but he nearly slid off the edge of the couch with it.
Gerard’s reflexes were quicker than his brain, moving to catch the boy’s arm before gravity could pull him to the floor.
“hey- hey. okay, okay.” he huffed, heart stuttering in his chest, his voice going a pitch lower, trying to soften. “we’ll leave it on.” he nodded slowly as he spoke.
the man stilled under the reassurance but his breath heaved for a moment longer, chest fluttering like a bird caught in a snare. he looked like a real animal caged, sedated but still jumpy, functions uncoordinated and choppy.
Gerard’s grip softened, but he held on longer than necessary, trying to ground him in the gentle pressure before letting go.
when his breathing finally eased— still a bit shaky, but no longer frantic— Gerard shifted back a little, giving him space to breathe without backing out entirely. he picked up the wipes and tore open the package with quiet motions. the scent was medicinal— sterile but not pungent— and seemed to get the attention of the man on the furniture.
“i’m gonna clean you up a little.” Gerard informed him, not harsh but not leaving much room for dispute, holding up the folded white cloth.
the man nodded in acknowledgement.
Gerard unfolded it and started at his collarbone, brushing away sweat and rope dust from irritated skin with gentle swipes. even the softest touch made the man stir, flinching before— seemingly— forcing himself to still. Gerard watched him, his hand twitching above the stranger’s chest, murmuring something soft and encouraging before pressing the cool wipe down again.
his skin was hot enough Gerard could feel the warmth through the wipe, especially in places where ropes had dug angry red marks in. he kept his movements brief in spite of his instinct to linger on the touch, each drag falling in time with the ebb and flow of his slow breathing.
“you were up there for too long.” Gerard spoke before he could catch his tongue and filter it into something softer, neater. it wasn’t scolding, so much as concern wrapped in a thin veil of frustration. irritation that wasn’t aimed anywhere but spewed nonetheless. “your muscles are shot.”
the stranger made a noise low at the base of his throat, stalling somewhere between a laugh and a pained sigh. maybe it was agreement, maybe an apology; but more likely both, twisted and tangled together the way his body had been.
Gerard dragged a fresh wipe along his stomach, clearing away the layer of grime clinging to his skin. he worked carefully down his arms, then his thighs were rope had rubbed his skin raw and thin. each time he heard the stranger hiss or let out one of those soft, wounded sounds, Gerard muttered a quiet apology; his voice dipping lower with each one.
by the time he was done, the wipe was tinged with sweat and grit and diluted red. pinching it between his forefinger and his thumb he wrinkled his nose at it behind the latex concealing his features. even the gloves didn’t make him feel less filthy, still too human, too alert of the layer of filth coating his hands. it made him shake, quickly wiping his hands off on a rag laying neatly on the arm of the couch.
there was a moment of hesitation, uncertainty he couldn’t hide, before reaching out and resting his palm carefully on the other man’s thigh.
“can you turn over so i can clean your back?” he murmured lowly. luckily, the nerves gnawing at the nape of his neck didn’t reach his voice. he kept it low, steady and patient.
with no small struggle, the boy eased himself forward, bracing on his hands and shifting the weight in his hips to flip himself face down on the couch.
Gerard’s breath hitched, his jaw sitting tight, almost letting a curse fall from his lips.
his backside was far worse than his front; shades of deep angry red, plum purple, and brutal black-blue crisscrossing in overlapping layers all the way from his lower back down to the inside of his thighs. lines that should’ve been straight were curved sloppily, marks that should’ve been consistent varied in thickness and depth, some thin as a wire, others thick as a tongue depressor.
it was a mess. an amatuer mess. Gerard recognized it in a second.
the doms’ technique had been god awful. marks tapered off wrong, angles inconsistent. he knew exactly how they’d moved— flicking the wrist too fast and pulling away too soon, snapping back without any control, strikes landing in places they shouldn’t.
Gerard sucked his lower lip between his teeth and worried at it until he could feel the faint sting.
he ripped open the second wipe, the sound unwelcome in the quiet room.
“this is going to sting,” he warned lowly, as if quiet would soften the burn.
the other man tensed, shoulders jumping beneath bruises and his spine unlocking itself with evident effort. his fingers curled into the cushion, his knuckles barely whitening as he braced.
Gerard placed a warm hand between his shoulder blades, not to hold him down but to calm, to ground him before he started.
he touched the cloth to the first welt.
the younger man inhaled sharply, the air clawing at his throat. Gerard froze just enough to let the initial wave pass.
“breathe.” he murmured, the word almost coaxing, curling into a hum. “there you go, good. i know it burns.”
once the trembling eased into something manageable, Gerard resumed, dragging the wipe carefully across the worst of the bruising. every press drew out another noise from the boy, sometimes a hiss, sometimes a soft, choked off whine that made Gerard gut twist into a million little knots.
he worked slowly, methodically.
like he could undo each mark if he was patient enough.
before he realized it, he was speaking again. “whoever did this,” he murmured. “should never be allowed near a whip again.”
the other man tucked his head down and made a small noise— agreement or embarrassment, or some combination of both— turning his face away in jagged movements.
Gerard kept going, gloved fingers steady even as irritation simmered low beneath his ribs. once he reached the inside of the younger man’s thighs he hesitated, almost imperceptibly, before moving to wipe across the mottled skin.
the boy shuddered hard.
“almost done.” Gerard mumbled, unsure if the reassurance was more for the stranger or himself.
after a little longer, he finally tossed the wipe— not even bothering to look at it this time— exhaling and reaching for the zinc balm. he squeezed out a dab and warmed it between his thumb and fingers, watching it soften.
“this’ll feel better than the wipe, i promise.” he said, shifting his weight so he could lean in without closing too much space.
he touched the balm to the first welt, light and careful, nothing more than a ghost of pressure.
the boy exhaled shakily, his body melting by a degree into the couch.
Gerard let his movements fall slower. gentler. moving in small circles, patient strokes.
he worked from the base of his spine downward, following the worst lines with balm-warmed fingertips. the stranger’s breathing evened out in increments, each slow breath loosening something in Gerard’s chest he hadn’t realized had tightened.
by the time he reached the boy’s thighs, the room felt heavier, warmer and quiet, like the universe itself had settled into something calmer.
“you’re doing good,” Gerard murmured. “really good.”
the boy made a soft, muffled sound into the couch cushion, something grateful and exhausted.
Gerard wiped his hands on a dry cloth and sat back on his heels again. he released a slow breath he hand’t noticed he’d been holding for the past few minutes.
“alright,” he said, softer now, “let’s get you rolled onto your side. you need to rest a bit.”
the boy didn’t argue, but he didn’t move yet either.
Gerard only realized why when the stranger’s fingers reached blindly backward, brushing against Gerard’s knee.
not grabbing or clinging. just checking that he was still there.
and, without thinking, Gerard set his hand lightly over the boy’s.
“i’m here,” he said.
the boy’s shoulders eased.
in slow, patient movements, Gerard helped him ease onto his side, guiding him with gentle pressure at his shoulder and hip. he made sure not to rush, pausing when he heard the hitch of breath or felt muscles stiffening. he waited, muttering quiet reassurances until the tension eased again. once settled the stranger faced him, knees drawn up in an instinctive curl, fingers curled tight within themselves like he didn’t know what to do with them.
Gerard folded his own legs beneath himnself, shifting his weight to one hip, surrendering to the floor and abandoning the thought of standing all together. the floor was cold against his skin through thin nylon, but he didn’t pay any mind to it. staying felt inevitable now, like leaving would fracture something fragile he’d only just begun knitting back together.
the boy’s breathing evened out now, almost normal, save for the occasional hiccups when he adjusted his position or a sore muscle protested. his eyes were squeezed shut, damp eyelashes fluttering against flushed skin.
without making the conscious decision to— without thinking through the implications and possible consequences— Gerard lifted his hand. he stroked slowly, carefully, through the small tufts of hair he could reach beside the straps of his mask, smoothing down sweat-damp spikes with the flat of his fingers. the motion was light, thoughtless and repetitive.
the younger man relaxed.
it was so subtle it might’ve gone unnoticed by untrained eyes, the drop of his shoulders, the unclenching of his jaw, the way his eyes fluttered and relaxed, his breath deepening. the tension that had been holding him on a wire finally loosened and ebbed away like a tide relenting.
Gerard stilled for only a moment, then continued, keeping the same, calm rhythm. he watched the rise and fall of the boy’s chest, the tremor of his hands slowly fade away, color washing back into his knuckles.
“that’s it.” he muttered through a sigh, “you’re safe.”
the words startled him as much as they seemed to settle the boy. the stranger made a soft, contented sound, more breath than voice, and nudged closer on instinct, his forehead bumping against Gerard’s palm.
Gerard swallowed, his throat tightening.
he adjusted his position, moving close enough to feel present but not so much as to crowd him. his hand kept moving through the boy’s hair, grounding them both in the repetitive motion.
minutes passed like that. unmeasured and unimportant.
soon, the stranger’s eyes flitted open, glassy and unfocused, blinking against the harsh light of the room. but he seemed calmer now, less jumpy, less frantic. his eyes peered up at Gerard, clearly trying to orient himself.
“hey,” Gerard said, catching his attention. he cupped a hand over the boy’s eyes, shading them from the light. “you still with me?”
he nodded faintly.
“good.” Gerard exhaled, his shoulders easing by a fraction. “you did so good. i’m gonna stay in here with you for a bit, okay?”
another nodded, smaller now, but sure.
Gerard relaxed back onto his hip, his hand still slowly carding through the younger man’s hair, and let the quiet of the room swallow them. the awful day, the noise of the club, the world beyond that wooden door all felt distant, unnecessary.
for now, this was enough.