July 9th, 200

582 miles south of Seattle, Washington

22nd day of tour

It's raining when we stop for the night. It's more of a drizzle today, but it was pouring earlier in Seattle, so all I could think of was Gerard. The way he looked when we last talked, nervous, shameful. It wasn't his fault. It's mine for all these stupid feelings. It's not supposed to be like this. I'm supposed to fuck him a few times and move on. I'm not supposed to miss him.

But I do.

So here, as I sit in our bus with Andy and Joe gone and Pete and Mikey's moans in the next bunk over. I can't help but hear my heart break inside and...

I need to talk to him. I need to say sorry for everything I did. For what I said. For how I acted.I pull open my curtain and slip on my shoes, pulling on my jacket and leaving the bus.

I sprint through the maze of buses, desperate to find Gerard, desperate to find my latest mistake and face the problem.

I look around through the drizzling rain, finally seeing the My Chemical Romance bus with a light on inside and the door shut, possibly locked. This is it. I just have to talk to him like Joe said.

My footsteps are slow as I walk to the bus and knock on the door.

Frank answers.

"I need to see Gerard." I say, breathless from the running and the pouring rain.

"He left a little bit ago to walk, he went off that way," Frank points to my left, "Good luck, man."

"Thanks." I reply with a small smile before I wave to him and start making my way in the direction he pointed.

I walk for a while, feeling the rain drizzling down my head and wetting my jacket. The soft sound, like a hum. My warm breaths.

I keep walking, looking around everywhere, passing all the buses, feeling my shoes slosh in the wet mud. Watching the stars overhead. I don't know why I'm still doing this. I don't know why I still want us to be something.

I guess it's because he said there will be a next time and I don't plan on changing that.

That's when I see him, hugging his knees to his chest, leaning against a stump of a tree and letting the rain soak into his jacket carelessly.

I swallow, my hands are shaky, my knees are weak. I need to talk to him. I'm scared, but I need to talk to him.

"G-Gee?"

My voice sounds nervous, with my lip bitten shortly after. He doesn't move at first, doesn't reply, doesn't pay me any attention.

And finally he pats the space next to him and I follow his instructions, sitting beside him.

"How did you know I'd be here?" He asks softly, through his cigarette, swallowing afterwards with his dark brown eyes cloudy with guilt.

"It's rainy out." I reply, "You like the rain."

He turns his head to look at me, pulling the cig from between his lips, "I'm sorry. A-About pressuring you into sex, I shouldn't have, I-"

I stop him, mid sentence to pull his lips against mine roughly despite the fact his mouth tastes like smoke and beer. Just kisses between friends. Friendly. Non-emotional. Just lust. No love.

Right...?

He pulls me closer and leans forward so I'm slowly being set down on the ground with his chest against mine and our crotches rubbing together.

"Missed you," I pant out as he kisses my neck, "Couldn't let you leave. I, ahhh, I shouldn't have snapped."

He bites down softly but just enough for another moan to leave my throat.

"Fucking... Mmm... Get off of me." I groan.

He quickly hops up with one more kiss on my stinging lips, helping me up, too and placing his cigarette back between his lips.

"I wanna blow you." I whisper, "I owe you."

He grins and looks left and right before he pulls me aside, behind The Offspring tour bus where he drops his cigarette to the ground and stomps it out quickly.

"I've never blown anyone before." I comment.

"You haven't done a lot of things before, Trick." He giggles as he pushes me down to my knees and unclasps the restraints to his tight jeans, "The best advice I can give you is to suck and blow, pay attention to the tip and underside, don't you dare finger me unless you know what you're doing, which, you obviously don't. Try to relax your throat and take deep breaths."

I blush at how much more experienced he is than me before I'm pulling down his underwear and widening my eyes.

It's longer than I remember.

He strokes my hair softly, comforting me and telling me to go ahead.

It takes a minute or so of hesitation before I finally work up some courage and let the tip enter my lips.

The precum tastes salty and it's really fucking warm from all the blood swelled up inside. I suck on the tip for a moment, taking in his reaction of moans before I finally get some confidence and slide down farther.

"P-Patrick!" He yelps out softly, grinding against my face, "F-Fuck, please."

I suck harder and begin bobbing my head up and down, in his length, looking straight up at him and hoping it won't be as awkward as I think it'll be.

It's not. Our eyes meet and he lets out a long, deep groan, grinding his hips even more and weaving his fingers through my hair roughly.

"'Trick, fuck can you... do you think you could... maybe... deep throat me?" He pants out.I blush a dark red and pull off for just a moment to say, "Maybe."

He smiles quickly, understanding what I mean before I'm going back down on him and taking deep breaths as he slides deeper in my mouth, hitting the back and then some. I cough and try not to gag, desperate to just make him feel good. He has to be a good 6 or 7 inches and, yeah, it doesn't feel all that great when that goes down the back of your throat, but I'll take it for him.

And I don't know why.

He groans, trying to restrain himself from bucking as I grasp the last inch or so that I can't fit. Nonetheless, he's satisfied with one inch off and a moaning mess above me, weak at the knees, panting, whimpering. He's weak to me and that makes my pants tight. Really tight.

I take deep breaths and finally begin to suck gently, getting harder with the more comfortable I am.

"Jesus, Trick. Do you have a gag reflex?"

I shrug as I grab his hips and bob on him bravely, humming around his cock and making him whimper, a shaky mess.

"I-I'm so close, fuck... just a little more, Baby, ugh." He blabs, grasping my hair even tighter and grinding his hips further into my face. It shouldn't bother me so much but the way he groans out Baby makes my pants unnecessarily tight.

I let my fingers slide to stroke his balls gently, just enough for a little more stimulation and...

"Ahh!" Gerard cries out, throwing his head back and coming into my mouth in a few hard spurts. He's left a shaky, sweaty mess against The Offspring's bus (which I quickly realize how bad of an idea this was).

I pull off of him and, unsure of what to do with the cum in my mouth (which tastes extremely salty), swallow it.

Spitters are quitters.

Gerard opens his eyes, his pupils no longer blown with lust.

"Was I okay?" I ask.

He pulls up his underwear and jeans and buckles his belt.

"It was amazing," he replies, "I owe you."

"O-Oh, okay." I blush.

"Next time you're topping, and we're gonna have sex again."

"Will there be a next time?" I ask.

He smirks, "Of course there will be a next time."

I blush. He takes my wrist and takes me back to the stump, sitting me down as the rain continues to drizzle on our heads and we sit, hands kept to ourselves but... somewhere in there, our fingers lace together and I kiss his nose.

I'm afraid of what we're turning into, but I think I love it.