40. Gerard
Gerard
Seeing Emory Griffin for the first time was mind-boggling. Seeing him outside of Iping Island and in New York City, of all places, was astounding. But seeing him in a tailored designer suit with his hair tamed and his shoes shined nearly stopped Gerard’s heart.
Cause of death? Handsomeness.
Of course, he didn’t need to worry about mortality at that rate. His genius scientist boyfriend could’ve easily come up with a solution to galvanize him should he keel over. Their love alone felt like a life-giving agent set to never expire.
Gerard wanted nothing more than to squish Emory in the biggest, warmest hug, but the hair and makeup teams would be bitter if they had to redo their hard work.
He had already sprung a surprise guest on them, and he wasn’t keen to push his luck any further.
After tonight, many of them would be rehomed to Garret’s solo team or hunting for new work.
“Do I look okay?” Emory asked, stepping farther into the lavish hotel suite high above the bustling streets of Manhattan.
Midafternoon sunlight trickled in through the picture windows, casting a lemony glow over the exploding-with-color garment rack the stylists had wheeled in, giving them each options in their respective sizes.
Usually, Gerard would’ve gone with the most basic selection— a loose fabric, a muted color, something easy to tear off and forget about at the end of the night as he avoided looking at the Getty Images of him on the step-and-repeat that would be attached to emails from their publicist. But with Emory by his side, those were photos he was likely going to cherish forever.
The urge to leap outside his fashion comfort zone won out, especially since he and his brothers were predicted to be award winners, too, by the end of the night.
Dress for the part you want, he thought.
Emory was dressed for the part of love of Gerard’s life. Gerard’s heart beat in double time as he inspected Emory.
“You look incredible,” Gerard said. The bow tie Emory wore was slightly askew, but Gerard resisted the impulse to reach out and fix it.
He worried if he touched Emory, he might vanish again.
Everything about that day already sat at a tipping point.
Once the Nomeys were over, his whole life was going to change, and there wouldn’t be much opportunity to backpedal.
Emory thanked him before adding, “I love that color on you.”
The double-breasted jacket—under which he wore no shirt and relished the feel of the softness against his bare chest—was made of a luxurious emerald satin. “The color reminded me of chameleons and the Chesapeake.”
“It brings out the undertones in your hazel eyes,” said Emory, moving closer. Gerard’s whole body reacted kindly, tipping in. “I can’t wait to see you standing on the sand on Iping when the weather gets warm.”
They hadn’t talked about the what-happens-next, which was both intentional and not.
On one hand, Gerard was busy rehearsing and laying down a track for the final song he’d release with We the Wells, which they planned to premiere part of at the Nomeys.
On the other, he was still attempting to embrace spontaneity, letting the pieces fall where they may instead of forcing them to fit into some neurotypical, heteronormative mold.
But when Emory reached out to touch his arm, he closed his eyes and allowed himself space to fantasize about a long, simple life on Iping with Emory. The Hallowitz & Hart lyrics that started it all lilted softly through his mind.
“What are you humming?” Emory asked.
“I didn’t even realize I was humming.” He laughed at himself. “It’s one of Regina’s songs. The one that brought me to Iping. Have I seriously never played it for you?”
Before Emory even shook his head, Gerard was pulling up a streaming platform on his nearby laptop and searching Hallowitz & Hart. The song was wrong for the style of the room and the party vibe the team was cultivating in advance of the ceremony, but it was entirely right for the moment. For them.
As he’d wanted to do at the Halloween masquerade had threats not been looming, Gerard put his arms around Emory’s waist, his head on Emory’s shoulder, and led them in a private step touch to the plucky song about the place where they’d met.
Too much had happened in five weeks, and much more would happen that night, so Gerard soaked up a single moment of privacy.
He removed his head from Emory’s shoulder as the song ended and kissed him in a way that was only meant to be chaste but turned quickly into a make out. God, how they’d missed each other.
In the background, “Island State of Mind” flowed into a new song.
“Halloween songs in November?” came Garret’s voice from the conjoining room a minute later.
He entered wearing a variation of Gerard’s look in a complementary turquoise with his sleeves lopped off.
“Whoa, get a room, you two.” He let out a brotherly, elbowing laugh.
Turned out, when he wasn’t obsessing over their every move as a band, he could be a half-decent brother. At least a less bossy one.
“First of all, this is our room,” Gerard said, gesturing at his and Emory’s unpacked bags, the unmade bed. “Second of all, this isn’t…” He tuned his listening ears around the thudding of his happy heart, all that pumping blood. He recognized the new song that was playing instantly.
Gavin leaned around the doorframe, hair slicked and pulled up into a ponytail. “Damn, this song brings back memories for me.”
“Me, too,” Emory said in a soft voice. That’s when it clicked that “The Monster Ball” was the song that he’d said had been playing the night his mother left him. Gerard moved quickly to stop it. “No, no. Let it play.”
“Are you sure?” Gerard asked, anxious that the night had been prematurely ruined by a faulty algorithm in a streaming service that paid literal pennies to artists.
Emory smiled, and it didn’t appear pinched or forced. “Yeah. I’m good.”
“I don’t understand why this was even a suggested song.” As Gerard clicked, he came upon the songwriting credits. Serendipity pushed aside his confusion. “Hold up—look at this.”
Emory leaned in. He smelled of the expensive soap from the rainfall shower and a dab or two of designer cologne still underpinned by that aromatic banana. Gerard pointed to the names on the screen: R. Hallowitz, Q. Hart.
The universe had a funny way of getting you straight to the right place and the right people.