Basically, my hard drive crashed and is irreparable and the data is irretrievable. Now, the positive thing is that I found this (and much of my other writing) in my emails from when I sent my work to friends and family. I have pretty much all of my important stuff saved, including pictures up on facebook and printed out school documents/writing/etc.
Bad news is, there is still some stuff I lost. It’ll take me a little while to get over the loss (such as pictures from this past Warped Tour, which may not seem like a big deal, but I’m VERY into my pictures/memories and I cling onto them like crazy. Not to mention I had pictures of me and some of my favorite bands when I got to meet them, like Attack Attack! and Versaemerge).
But in any case, this was at least salvaged, so you guys don’t have to suffer. If you even still keep up with it after that long hiatus.
To those who may have stuck around, thank you! This is the second to last chapter, so enjoy and prepare for the finale.
Could I Lie Next To You? – Post 14 REVISED
We finished breakfast in silence from that point on. Gerard seemed ashamed of himself and I just didn’t know what to say. A few minutes later we were seated on the couch, Gerard in my arms as I reclined against the arm rest.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. The first thing he’d said in at least twenty minutes.
God, why did this have to be so hard?
“I know… it’s okay.” It wasn’t; I still wasn’t feeling entirely sure about taking him back so easily. But I loved him, and the idea of letting him go when I finally had him again made me nauseous. He moved to protest, but I kissed the back of his head and gently pushed him up so I could stand, silencing him. “I’m going to go get some of my stuff from my place. Want to come for a ride?”
“Your stuff?” He sat up straight, looking at me quizzically. “For what?”
“I told you… want to stay with you for a while.” That’s it, Frank, look anywhere but at him. Coward. “I want to make sure you’re going to be alright.”
“I don’t need a babysitter. I’m fine.”
“Who says I’ll be babysitting?” I asked mischievously, bending down to his eye-level. “I’ll just be providing some constructive ‘activities’ to keep your mind off of the withdrawal.” Smirking, I pulled his head closer and gave him a fiery kiss. His kiss was a bit less passionate, but I could still feel his lips turn upward.
“How am I supposed to reject an offer like that?”
“You don’t!” I grabbed my coat from the rack near the door. “So do you wanna come with or not?”
“Nah, I’m gonna stay and watch some TV or something.”
I asked if he was sure – some time out of the house would probably do him good – but he was set on staying home. I told him I’d be back soon and got into my car, driving the few miles to my house as quickly as possible so I could get back to him soon.
I took the steps to my bedroom two at a time. My suitcase was in my closet, right where I left it after Hawaii. Amazingly enough, there were still some clothes left in there. Damn, wasn’t that trip two months ago already? I chuckled to myself and shook my head, tossing the remaining clothes into the hamper and packing the best shirts and jeans I owned. It wasn’t like Gerard hadn’t seen me at my worst during our tours, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t look good for him now.
My toothbrush, iPod, phone and iPod chargers, and favorite CDs soon joined my clothes in the suitcase. I zipped the bag up and lugged it to my car, following it with one of my smaller amps and my Elitist Les Paul Standard. I loved that thing… the fret board lit up and everything.
When I got back to Gerard’s, he was still on the couch, staring at the TV blankly. He looked up when I shut the door and forced a smile.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, kneeling beside him. He shrugged his shoulders briefly and continued watching the music video playing on the screen. It was Marilyn Manson; there was no way he was actually paying attention.
Still no response.
No way. He wasn’t going to be acting that way as long as I was around. I picked the remote up off of his stomach and shut the TV, tossing it onto the armchair across the room.
“What was that for?” he barked. It seemed like he had something else to say, but he backed off when he saw my expression.
“I have a bad headache.”
“Is that all?”
He sighed, sitting up straight and holding his forehead in the palm of his hand. “No, I feel really shaky and anxious. I’m tired too, but when I tried taking a nap I had a real shitty dream.”
Withdrawal. He’d gone through it the first time he cleaned up, but he didn’t suffer from that many symptoms all at once. It was hitting him hard this time. And that was just the beginning.
Sitting next to him, I pulled him into my arms and kissed his cheek softly.
“It’ll all be over soon, I promise.”
“I’m such a fucking idiot,” he mumbled, burying his face in his hand. “This is my fault.”
“You aren’t an idiot. It’s okay to be messed up, remember?” I tilted his chin up with my fingers. “You’re always telling those kids out there that they can pull through their problems. You can, too.”
He nodded but still didn’t seem convinced.
“Come on; let’s get your mind off of it.” I had to pull him off of the couch and practically drag him up the stairs. When we got to his room I sat him down on the bed and went into the closet where I’d stored my guitar, pulled out a cable with it and hooked it up to the amplifier. “Did you think up words to the new song yet?”
Gerard nodded. He didn’t seem too excited, but cleared his throat and straightened his spine as I began to play my part. He nodded his head slightly to the beat, silently counting, until it came time for him to sing. His voice was low and meek at first, so I played softly to avoid drowning him out. Suddenly he stopped in the middle of the song and shook his head, cursing under his breath.
“I can’t sing. I sound awful.”
“You just need to warm up. Let’s do something we already know.”
He nodded again and took a deep breath.
“And if they get me and the sun… goes down into the ground…”
I started playing my part in time with his singing, listening to his voice gradually growing louder and less shaky. Soon he seemed much more confident than earlier and was screaming the lyrics accordingly, standing up to get as much breath as possible.
“We'll shoot back holy water like cheap whiskey, you’re always there…
Someone get me to a doctor, and someone call the nurse…”
Shudder. Tho se lyrics weren’t exactly the ones I wanted to be hearing with Gerard in his current condition. But he was putting his whole being into the song and was gradually getting better, so I continued to play and tried not to listen to them.
“Can you… stake me… before… the sun goes down?”
I looked up at him as he carried out the last note and smiled. He was looking better already.
“Ready to try it again?”
I started playing my intro to the new song, lifting my gaze from the strings now and then to watch him. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and began to sing.
“It eats me away inside,
Throughout the day, endless night
And as I turn corners I see you waiting,
Try to reach out (no, you’re fading!)
And that burning liquid I’ve tried to hide so well
Flows down the streets, pumps through my veins…
It brings me to my knees, I cry
(My life’s a living hell!)”
What? I missed a chord and stumbled awkwardly across the fret board until I managed to get back on track. Those weren’t the lyrics he sang before. These fit the song itself much better, but…
Suddenly he stopped. I tapped the strings to stop the notes and watched him pull out a pencil and paper from his desk as if in a trance.
“Hang on,” he said, holding his hand up. He scribbled down the few lines and sat back in his seat, staring at them for a few moments. I leaned my guitar against the wall and closed the distance between us, slipping my arm around his waist.
“Where did that come from?” I kept my voice low and calm, as if he might shatter if I spoke too loudly. The thing was, it seemed as if he actually might.
“It was stuck in my head for a while. Had to get it out,” he mumbled. Then he took his pencil and scribbled down another verse.
“Then someone sent me a simple savior.
I can walk these roads again…
One I don’t deserve to hold me up, help me stand...
(just tell me you love me again.)
The yellow liquid that covered the bricks, bubbles away to reveal
White walls, sharp smells… a man crying at my heels
I can reach you now, touch your hair and then
I swear I don’t have to be here…
(just tell me you love me again.)”
It didn’t take me long to figure out who the “savior” was. It felt like a huge bubble welled up inside me and I choked back tears as I grabbed Gerard’s hand and pulled him to his feet.
His eyes reflected the emotion I was sure showed in mine and I pulled him into a tight hug, telling myself to suck it up. I sighed shakily and kissed his neck once, mumbling against his skin.
“I love you.”
“I love you too,” he whispered. “Thanks for helping me through this.”