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Gerard begins to suspect he might have made a mistake.
You should try craft fairs out, they said. Your art is amazing and more people need to see it, they said. And Gerard actually believed it, like an idiot he is, and applied for the local craft fair. In hindsight he realises he should have paid more attention to the photos on their website and Instagram page before applying, and maybe if he did he wouldn’t be feeling like a weird goth kid at a wholesome family gathering now.
At least his stand is in the furthest corner of the fair, so he doesn't really stick out that much. He is stuck between a guy with wooden sculptures and a family couple selling crocheted scarves (they turn out to be sweet and surprisingly supportive, and the wife even buys a few stickers for her son who she claims is going through his emo phase, but this isn't the point), and he has never felt less cool in his entire life. He genuinely thought vampires were having a renaissance among the more or less general public, and he has seen a few stands selling creepy cute plushies and crocheted toys, and he allowed himself to believe that he won’t be too out of place with his art.
This is the high school charity bake sale all over again. The only difference is that this fair is going to last for three days straight, and Gerard is too old now to call his parents and ask them to pick him up because the people are mean to him, and so he has no choice but to endure the humiliation.
And, as if things weren't bad enough already, there is a punk guy covered in tattoos hanging around Gerard’s stand. He is constantly eyeing Gerard, and he hasn't left this corner of the fair in the past half an hour, and the entire situation is getting progressively creepier. The guy is cute, Gerard has to admit, and in any other situation he might have tried to establish contact, but not when he feels like he's being stalked.
He should probably call Mikey if the guy doesn't leave in the next few minutes. Maybe another person's presence will scare him off.
“Vampires, huh?”
Gerard looks up at the tattooed guy. He doesn't look so threatening up close, quite the opposite, actually; he looks just as embarrassed and a little bit confused as Gerard feels. And dammit, he is actually hot, despite looking like a possum that has crawled out of a trash can, and his haircut with short bleached sides and a black mop of hair on the top with loose strands covering part of his face only adds to the general impression. Just Gerard’s luck: the only guy in this entire place he finds attractive is also exactly the type to act all weird around him.
“Yeah,” Gerard murmurs.
The guy nods. “Vampires are cool.”
Gerard isn’t sure what he’s getting at, so he chooses to be polite and silently nods back. They guy doesn’t seem to mind, too busy studying the contents of the stand, and Gerard is suddenly very aware how little he actually has to offer compared to everyone else around. He only has himself to blame, really: he should have thought it through properly instead of limiting himself to stickers, postcards, and a few canvas paintings that nobody is going to buy anyway.
If Mikey was with him, it would have been different. Mikey has a natural charm and he’s actually good with people, unlike Gerard who prefers to hide behind his sketchbook and avoid any human contact, they would have run out of stock on the first day.
“How much?”
Gerard silently points at the whiteboard with the price list. The guy lets out a confused “huh” but doesn’t comment on it any further. He ends up buying five postcards and a sticker and disappears right after Gerard gives him the change. Gerard somewhat hoped he would at least introduce himself, or take Gerard’s business card, but he does neither of these things. Maybe Gerard figured it all wrong, and in reality the guy wasn’t that interested in him. Or maybe it was Gerard’s less than friendly attitude that scared him off, and Gerard just blew his chance of getting to know the guy better.
Not that Gerard was interested in the first place. He’s just bored out of his mind.
***
The tattooed guy is back an hour before the closing. Gerard has already begun counting the losses and trying to figure out how he can bribe Mikey to hang out with him for the next two days, and he doesn’t realise he has a customer until the guy waves his hand at him and grins.
“Hi again.”
Gerard looks up. The guy’s grin grows wider.
“I got more cash,” he says. “Man, why is it so hard to find a goddamn ATM around here?”
Gerard shrugs. “I don’t know.”
“Whatever,” the guy says. “What can I get for a fifty?”
He isn’t serious right now. This is some kind of an elaborate prank, or maybe this guy is one of those people that buy art made by others and then sell it for ten times the original price. It takes Gerard a second to remember he isn’t in high school anymore, and most people don’t care about him existing, and his art isn't that easy to sell anyway.
“Anything you want,” Gerard murmurs.
He is too late to realise how poor his choice of words was.
“Anything?” the guy offers him a mischievous smile.
“Anything at the stand,” Gerard clarifies in a voice that should give the guy the general idea of how unfunny he finds this joke. If it was a joke in the first place.
The guy doesn’t seem to understand. He shakes his head and keeps browsing, giving Gerard an occasional glance, and Gerard isn’t sure if this is his way of trying to flirt or it’s just his normal behaviour.
“I’m Frank, by the way,” the guy introduces himself as he goes through the postcards.
Gerard offers him a tiny nod.
“Gerard,” he mumbles.
“I like your style, Gerard,” Frank grins at him.
“Thanks?”
Gerard still isn’t sure how to proceed. Is he misreading the situation? Frank looks like the kind of person that might be interested in Gerard’s art, but not to the extent when he’s willing to compulsively spend fifty dollars on postcards and stickers. Or maybe it’s exactly like that: just a guy liking another guy’s artwork and trying to show support the only way that matters at fairs, nothing more.
“I mean it,” Frank says. “It’s awesome,” he chuckles. “I mean, I don’t know shit about art, but I like it.”
He picks up a business card and studies it for a few moments. Take it, Gerard silently pleads, or don’t, whatever, but stop messing with me, you idiot.
Frank puts the card in his jeans pocket.
“Listen,” he asks, and all of a sudden he sounds surprisingly awkward. “It’s probably dumb, but… do you take commissions?”
“Yeah,” Gerard shrugs.
Frank’s face immediately brightens.
“Awesome,” he breathes out. “I wanna get a new tattoo, and I haven’t decided what I want yet, but I know I want it to be all,” he waves his hands, “spooky and stuff, and I thought you might be the guy for the job.”
Gerard nods slowly. He doesn’t really have any experience with tattoos, but it shouldn’t be that hard, right? Even if Frank has nothing but the general style yet.
“Anyway,” Frank says. “I should probably message you.”
“I’ll be here tomorrow,” Gerard says quietly.
Frank blinks.
“Wait, seriously?”
Gerard shrugs. “Well, yeah. You can come over, if you want, and we’ll discuss it.”
Frank takes a quick glance at the stand. “You sure I’m not gonna distract you?”
“I’m pretty sure you won’t.”
Frank smiles again. “Cool,” he pauses. “Okay, one more thing, and, uh, it’s cool if you say no, but can I give you my number? Just in case?”
Gerard giggles.
“It’s usually done the other way,” he says.
Frank shrugs. “I don’t wanna be a creep,” he says. “So, y’know, no pressure. If you don’t wanna do it then don’t, it’s fine.”
It’s now or never. Either Gerard gets himself together and agrees to take Frank’s number, or he’s going to regret it for the rest of his life. Well, maybe not for so long, but definitely for a few years.
“Okay,” he says, trying to act as calm as he can when his heart is racing. “Why not?”
Everything happens too fast. Frank takes a step forward, simultaneously trying to take his phone out of his pocket, when his left side collides with the stand. It doesn’t collapse, thankfully. but the table shakes ominously, and, before Gerard can react, a pile of postcards scatters on the floor.
“Fuck!”
Frank drops on his knees and starts picking the postcards up. Gerard follows his example, trying not to think about how he is getting dangerously close to Frank.
“Sorry,” Frank mutters. “This happens all the fucking time, seriously, I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Gerard hurries to reassure him. “You didn’t break anything, it’s—”
Their hands touch. Gerard freezes, his breath stuck in his throat, and, to his surprise, so does Frank. In the early evening light it’s hard to tell, but Frank’s skin is hot to the touch and Gerard is sure that he’s blushing. He can feel his own face heat up, and honestly, this is so embarrassing, it’s almost like he’s back in high school and the guy he has a crush on looked at him in the hallway.
He doesn’t even know this guy.
“Okay,” Frank clears his throat. “Um. I think that should be all.”
He doesn’t break eye contact. Neither does Gerard: he just can’t move, not when Frank is so close to him, and his heart is ready to jump out of his chest.
“You have a paint smudge,” Frank whispers. “On your cheek.”
Gerard lets out a small incoherent noise. He thinks he wanted to say it was a marker smudge, not paint, but he can’t make himself say a single word. Frank reaches out, his fingers brush against Gerard’s cheek, and, before he can think what he’s doing, Gerard leans forward and kisses Frank’s lips.
Frank moans. He actually moans, and Gerard instantly breaks the kiss, too ashamed of himself and his own recklessness. He can only hope Frank won’t think he’s a weirdo that loves kissing hot strangers, because this, in fact, is as far from the truth as it can possibly get.
“Sorry,” Gerard rasps. “I didn’t—”
He never gets the chance to finish. Frank grabs him by the collar and pulls him closer.
“I don’t mind,” he whispers, his breath so hot against Gerard’s cheek.
He doesn’t regret coming here anymore, Gerard realises as his lips touch Frank’s again. The kiss is longer this time, deeper, and Gerard stops breathing for a few seconds, too far gone to care, and only pulls away when his lungs begin to burn.
Frank is the first one to come to his senses. He takes a deep breath, no doubt trying to collect himself, and offers Gerard a bright smile.
“I guess I’ll be here tomorrow,” he says. “Don’t leave me hanging, alright?”
Gerard nods, dumbfounded. He still finds it all hard to comprehend, and he knows he probably shouldn’t keep his hopes up — Frank is a great kisser, and he seems like genuinely nice person under all the tattoos and rough looks, but Gerard has only just met him, he has to be careful, — but Frank’s charm is impossible to resist.
“Yeah,” he rasps. “I’ll be waiting, then.”