Gerard turns to bad habits.
"What?" He said, whispering, his voice high and wavering.
"Sorry." I mumbled. This was the last thing I wanted, but it had to be done if I just made bad things happen to him. I turned away from him for the rest of the journey, I couldn't bear to look at him. I'd break down. We arrived at the station and we got hauled off in separate directions.
He didn't love me. 'I couldn't stop loving you even if I wanted to.' BULLSHIT. He didn't care. Oh fuck. I'd been so happy last night and this morning. Why had he given himself to me?! Especially if he didn't really... argh. I'd felt worth something. I wasn't worth anything.
I was just in pain for the next few days. Frank had been let go, I didn't listen to why. I made up some shit that they beat up Frank then came onto me so I hit them. After many trials and creative answers to questions, I was let go. I didn't even care. I hadn't been sleeping, either. As I left, I'd heard someone call me.
"Gerard Way! We found this on Frank, he told us to give it to you." They passed me what looked like a journal, and left me to walk home. It felt like I arrived a few seconds later. I didn't care about anything.
I got in, threw the diary somewhere, I didn't care. I suddenly found myself going towards my drink.
What seemed like a moment later, I'd downed a whole bottle of some kind of alcohol. I didn't care what. I opened another bottle. I just kept drinking. I was in too much pain. I just wanted to feel numb. Drink. I remembered the pills I also had, and took those aswell. To my delight, I soon passed out.
I felt terrible without Gerard. But, if it meant he was better off without me, I didn't care. It had been two weeks since we broke up, and I was coping badly. I spent basically every minute of the day on music, if I concentrated, it drowned out the pain. I'd given Gerard my diary though, so that should've told him that he wasn't worthless, and it was just because of me. I hoped he'd read it. I loved him so much.
I suddenly jumped, I'd been daydreaming and me and some drunk guy had bumped into eachother.
"Sorry." He grumbled. Why did I recognise that voice? I froze in my tracks.
"Gerard?!?!?" I looked at him properly. He looked terrible. His appearance was completely unattended to, dark circles under his eyes, his eyes red and he stunk of alcohol. Shit. Shit. I could literally feel my heart breaking.
"Fuck off, Frank!" He snapped, slapping my hand off of him. He stuck a middle finger up at me and ran away, barely managing to keep himself upright.
I could've broke down and cried right then, right there. I cursed under my breath repeatedly. He didn't love me anymore now. He was a wreck. What had I done?
I was completely hammered and on coke. I ran home and cried for the 100th time in the past two weeks. I wanted it all to stop. I'd told him to fuck off, but I needed him more than ever. I'd been wearing the shirt I'd accidentally aquired from Frank from the first night we'd got together all the time. I buried my nose into it, and I could still faintly take in his comforting smell.
"I want out of this!" I yelled, smashing the bottle I was holding to the floor. The alcohol and drugs were wearing off, so now I was ten times worse. I picked up the smashed glass and slashed my arm.
I love you Frankie. No. Don't cut. I could hear his voice in my head. But you don't care anymore I thought back.
WHAT SHOULD I DO?!
I didn't know what the fuck I was doing. I needed help. Help. I took out a bottle of paint from my art box and pointed it at the wall like a gun. I spelled out help. I wouldn't get any, but it was just an act out of desparation.
Fuck this. Fuck everything. I slashed my arm again.
Please Gerard. The Frank in my head pleaded. It was decided. I was going to read the diary. I picked it off the floor and opened it desparately, focusing my eyes on the words. Tears sprung to my eyes. So much was about me. Whether he was writing about how good I was at music and art, how I was the bestest friend ever or whether about how he was in so much pain because he loved me so much. Then why did he break up with me?! I cried uncontrollably. I cut another time, I didn't even know why that time, just out of intense confusion. I buried my face in my knees, bloody arm and diary to one side. I just cried uncontrollably and let myself lose more and more blood, dangerous amounts by the second.