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“Aaaand cut! That’s a wrap, guys.” Bert and Gerard had just finished filming a Q&A for “Steven’s Untitled Rock Show.” The second the cameras stopped rolling, Bert practically attacked Gerard’s cheek with kisses, causing Gerard to fall on his side in a fit of giggles. Bert had had the brilliant idea to get a little (okay, a lot) stoned before the interview. Gerard had never done such an unprofessional interview in his life, but he couldn’t seem to bring himself to care right now with Bert toppling over onto him, hugging loosely around his body and placing sloppy kisses all over his cheek.
Steven, who was now standing and making his way to the door, cleared his throat. The two looked up at him from their half-sitting half-lying position. “Thank you for agreeing to this. I’ll see you in 15 to go over any finishing touches?” he more asked than told them. He doubted they'd remember.
“Sir, yes, sir,” giggled Bert, giving a mock salute. Gerard burst into yet another giggling fit at this. Steven nodded and left, making sure not to let them see him roll his eyes.
They wouldn’t have noticed anyway, though, because as soon as Steven left, Bert surrendered his assault on Gerard’s cheek for his mouth instead. They were still giggling, everything in the world funny in the midst of their high, even the incredibly sloppy make out session they were having in the TV studio.
Gerard thought about the interview. That was pretty funny, too. He thought about Bert’s pronunciation of “haute couture,” about Charles Manson's ass, about Bert answering his phone in the middle of the interview to prove some point to what’s-her-face.
“You’re a dick,” Gerard mumbled into Bert’s mouth at that memory. Bert burst into a fit of laughter, falling back on the couch, flailing his arms and legs uncontrollably, as if this was the funniest thing he'd ever heard. Gerard fell forward in laughter onto Bert’s lap. Life was so much brighter when Bert was around. He knew how not to take things so seriously, something Gerard wished he could do on his own. He should do more interviews with Bert. He should do more of everything with Bert.
The two continued laughing like that, slowly dying out over the next minute or so. Gerard’s high was starting to fade. He noticed that at some point, they must have knocked those stupid giant glasses off of each other’s faces because he could see right into Bert’s eyes now. He looked up at Bert lovingly, and Bert looked back down with a stupid grin on his face, lighting up another cigarette. Over his shoulder, Gerard spotted the picture that was, indeed, taken on their first date. Over the next few seconds, more memories of the interview started flooding back to him. Not such pleasant ones.
“Why’d you do that?” he asked, struggling to sit up out of Bert’s lap as he was still fairly high.
Bert, it seemed, was still feeling the weed a little more than Gerard was. He giggled. “I did a lot of things. What?”
“You know what I’m talking about, Bert.” Bert looked back at him. He truly did not. Gerard sighed. “I thought we agreed not to talk about…” he gestured vaguely between them, “...this.”
“I forgot,” Bert said nonchalantly, seeming more focused on the cigarette between his fingers.
“Yeah, you seem to forget that a lot.” Bert felt his high crashing all around him at Gerard’s tone. Damn, he was really serious. There was an uncomfortable silence as Bert tried to ground himself and figure out what to say. “Look, I’m glad you’re comfortable with all this, but I’m just not, and you need to respect that.”
“I- I do,” he stumbled out, taking a short drag from his cigarette. Gerard scoffed, folding his arms over his chest and turning away from Bert slightly. “Come on, Gee, you know I respect you. You know I do, baby.” Nothing. “And I’m not comfortable with it either. Being gay or whatever you wanna call it. But I’m tired of hiding all the time.”
“Kissing me in public every other day is hardly what I’d call ‘hiding,’” Gerard spat back softly.
Bert stuck the cigarette between his lips so he could lean in and hug Gerard with both arms. “Look, let’s just calm down and-” His thought was cut off by Gerard snatching the barely-smoked cigarette out of his mouth, throwing it to the ground, and stomping it out with the heel of his boot. Bert pulled back just slightly. “What the fuck, man?!”
“Stop breathing that shit in my face.” Gerard wasn’t sure what he was angry about anymore. He was spiraling. He knew he was being irrational, but he couldn’t stop himself. He was overwhelmed and terrified. Gerard gestured at the framed picture of them. “Why’d you bring that here anyway?”
Bert wasn’t expecting this question. He didn’t really know the answer. “I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “I saw it when I was leaving the bus, and I thought it’d be funny I guess.”
“Yeah, real funny,” Gerard said quietly.
“Look, I’m sorry, alright? I shouldn’t have brought the picture. Is that what this is about?”
“Yes! Well, no. That’s not all it’s about. It’s about everything. You know, some chick already asked us if we were going out, and you basically confirmed it. Talking about our first date and shit.”
Bert’s feelings were really starting to get hurt. Gerard was embarrassed by him. “Is that really the worst thing in the world?” he asked.
“Do you hear yourself right now?” Gerard raised his voice, standing up. “You need to think about it. Just really think about what would happen to us and our bands if people knew about us.”
Oh. Bert understood now. It was about the band. It was always about the band. “Well, I’m sorry that our relationship is messing up your precious fame and fortune-”
“That’s not what this is about!” Gerard all but screamed back. He had to admit to himself, though, that that was some of what it was about. The band was just starting to take off, and if he came out now, that would all be ruined. Sure, a little stage-gay here and there was fine, but real-gay was crossing a line. Gay guys, or whatever he was, don’t get famous. He didn’t want to hide either, but it was for the best. He just wished Bert could see that. “I need some air,” he declared after taking a few deep breaths. He grabbed Bert’s half-empty flask off the table and headed for the parking lot, hoping there was enough left of whatever Bert had in it to make him forget about all of this.
“Gerard, wait!” But he was already out of the room, and Bert honestly didn’t have the energy to keep fighting anyway. He rubbed his hands through his hair helplessly. Feeling a tear run down his cheek, he put his head in his hands, letting a few tears spill out before wiping them from his face and heading for the van, intending to drink himself into a deep sleep and entirely forget about the last five minutes of his life.
They never did put the finishing touches on that interview.