A little Ferard violence.
Author's Note: Hey. Chapter Two. I don't know that I have much else to say.
Chapter 2. Seeing Red (It’s Hard Not to With Blood on the Floor)
I woke up to the feel of the mattress lifting under me. Startled, I barely managed to blink the sleep from my eyes when I saw Gerard, in Jack Skellington boxers, heading towards the kitchen.
The panic I felt kept me silent for a moment before whispering, “What are you doing?”
Gerard turned, looking scared. He sighed and glared at me. “Jesus Christ, Frankie. Can’t I do anything without being fucking interrogated?”
I could feel shame bubbling up inside of me. I couldn’t understand it, but Gerard always made me feel like this was all my fault.
“Frankie, if you’d…”
“Why the hell won’t you…”
“…Maybe then I’d be happy! You just don’t want me to be happy, do you?”
I sat up, resting my chin on my knees. “I’m sorry. I just…” I stared at the comforter over my feet.
Gerard sighed again. “I can’t believe I put up with this shit.” He disappeared into the kitchen, but kept talking. “Get off my fucking back. I can do whatever I want. I’m an adult.” He came back holding a beer. “I can’t believe I put up with you.”
I could feel my eyes start to burn. Not from the insults - Gerard usually said much worse to me - but from the alcohol in my lover’s hand.
“Gerard.” My voice came out in a harsh whisper. “Baby, please, put it down…”
Gerard glared, popped the top, and guzzled. I winced at how fast he downed it. “Go back to sleep,” he snarled, throwing the can at my head. I ducked, but I could feel it graze my hair.
“Don’t be a pain in the ass, Frank!” Gerard looked deadly. I cowered, curling up even tighter. I laid down and turned on my side, trying to ignore the white refrigerator light from the kitchen. I attempted to close my eyes, but I couldn’t stand to sleep with my one true love destroying himself in the other room.
Of course - he was crying again. I tried to block it out, but it filtered through my thoughts. I knew he’d just be angry if I went and talked to him, but I went anyway.
He was slumped over the table. I was amazed by how much he’d downed in such a short while. He was whimpering into a beer bottle.
I cleared my throat quietly. “Hun?”
He looked up at me. His eyes were filled with nothing but tears and intoxicated hate. “What the fuck do you want?” he slurred.
I walked forward, hesitantly. “Gerard…” I tried to grab the bottle, but he pulled it out of my reach.
“WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?” he bellowed. I flinched instinctively, shielding my face with my arms. “DO YOU THINK YOU’RE SAVING ME? DO YOU THINK YOU’RE HELPING?” He threw the bottle as hard as he could. I fell to the floor, only to hear it crash on the wall behind me.
I felt a different bottle collide with my back. I heard it crack, and a searing pain flew up my spine. I curled up, scared. I couldn’t fight him, ever. Especially not like this - Gerard was strong, and he was even stronger when he was angry.
“YOU’VE NEVER DONE ANYTHING FOR ME!” Gerard yelled. He kicked me hard in the side. Pain exploded in my rib cage. “YOU’LL NEVER DO ANYTHING FOR ME!” The blows were coming so fast now that I hardly knew where they were coming from. He pulled me up by my shoulders and shoved me into the table. I stumbled and fell back to the floor. Tears were streaming down his pale cheeks, his brown eyes wide, his long black hair a matted mess. “Can’t you see?” he growled, his voice shaking. “Can’t you see that you’re just hurting yourself?” He threw a chair into me, knocking into my aching ribs. “I’M NO GOOD FOR YOU! STOP WASTING YOUR TIME!”
“I’m just trying to help you change!” I yelled back. I was shaking in fear.
He brought his face so close to mine I could smell the beer on his breath, and it made me dizzy. “Maybe,” he hissed, “I don’t want to change.”
Author's Note: Please comment. I'm needy.