Gerard runs into Melissa and realizes something horrible.
So, he decided that he'd go to town today and if, by chance, he managed to run into Melissa then he'd try to make small-talk.
Lifting himself out of bed, he heard the faint buzzing sound of his cell phone and threw random articles of clothing around the floor trying to find it. Within seconds, he had the small object in hand and smirked at the caller ID.
"What is it, Frank?" mused Gerard, rummaging through his closet for some clothes.
"Nothing," laughed Frank, "I just wanted to see how you were holding up after the little situation we had a few days back."
Gerard sighed, tired of people's concern, and rolled his eyes, "I'm fine, Iero."
"Short answers with you, huh? Well, if you want to, Toro and I are heading over to Christa's later and you can come with."
"No. I'm going to town for a bit."
"Oh," mumbled Frank, "Well, I guess I'll see ya later, then."
Muttering a quick goodbye, Gerard disconnected the call and marched down the stairs, grabbing the pack of cigarettes on the table before heading outside. Taking one out of the pack, he brought it to his lips and lit it, inhaling the sweet toxins into his lungs.
For being a friday, he noticed that there weren't as many people out as usual. But, then again, there was just a murder in town.
Gerard stepped down off the sidewalk and into the crosswalk as he walked across the street to the Starbucks. As usual, it was crowded and carried the odd smell of musty jackets but he didn't mind. He needed his fix for the morning.
Taking his turn in line, he muttered his order and waited patiently for the waitress to retrieve it for him. Scanning the room, he noticed a familiar head of golden brown hair by the window. A smile found it's way onto his lips as he quickly gathered up his coffee and wandered to the back of the room to stand near her table.
It took a moment but he managed to make her notice him.
"Gerard?" squeaked a shy voice.
Turning to his side, he put on a surprised look and joined her at the table, "Melissa? Hi. How've you been?"
"Not so good," Melissa sniffled, "I've had kind of a rough week. I don't suppose you've caught the news?"
"About what?" questioned Gerard, trying his bet not to smile.
"Oh," mocked Gerard, "I saw that, yeah. Really depressing, what happened."
"Yeah," whispered Melissa, "It seems every time I get close to someone... no. Never mind. It's stupid."
Gerard nodded, watching her slowly sip her latte and reached out to take her hand, "Do you wanna talk?"
For the first time that week, Melissa found that she was smiling, "Yeah. I'd like that."
Gerard and Melissa packed up their things and took off towards the park, laughing and talking the whole way there. By the time they got there, Melissa forgot why they actually came in the first place, despite everything.
"Whoa," laughed Melissa, "I don't think we've talked like this since high school."
Gerard smiled and nodded, "I know. Usually I can't shut you up."
Melissa pouted and smacked his arm, leading him over to a park bench, "So what have you been up to? I haven't gotten a chance to talk to you in a few months."
Gerard shurgged, "Nothing really. I'm still obsessed with my music and draw every chance I get but other than that... not much. What about you?"
"Same. Lately I've burried myself in my work and took extra shifts to keep myself busy so I'd feel useful. I've had a lot of bad luck this year so I just want to feel like I'm doing something good, ya know?"
"Yeah," mumbled Gerard, "Listen, I've gotta go but I'll see you later, alright?"
The pained look on Melissa's face sent a bolt of guilt through his body but he just shrugged it off and ignored it, wanting to get as far away form Melissa as he could right now.
Melissa nodded and scribbled a number down, "Call me, okay?"
Gerard snatched up the number and took off in the direction of his house, sprinting the whole way. By the time he reached the door, he was out of breath and had beads of sweat clinging to his forehead.
"Shit." mumbled Gerard.
He knew all too well what he was feeling right now. It wasn't love or excitement. No, it was hunger. Hunger for something he shouldn't be doing.
He pulled the door open and slammed it shut, falling to the floor and craddling his knees.
He wanted to rip someone's throat out right now. He wanted to slice open someone's stomach and watch the blood spill out while he played with the stray strands of their hair. It was too late for him. He'd done it enough, and now he was paying for it.
He was addicted to killing. He had found his heroin.