One-Shot. Gerard has three things worth living for. My first story.
Every day, Gerard wakes up in a haze, with barely enough time to get to work. So he drinks the remainder of whatever alcoholic beverage he has left in his fridge, smokes a cigarette on the drive, grabs a coffee from the coffee shop down the street, and pops the first few of many pills he'll take that day as he looks for a parking space. This monotonous routine has been going on for as long as he can remember. He'd never pictured himself as a desk jockey, slaving away in some nameless office. He could play guitar (not very well though), he was an excellent singer, and a pretty good artist. Of course, no one ever picks this life for themselves, now do they? Sighing, he pushed his greasy ebony locks out of his ghostly pale face, and took a deep breath as he entered the office he worked at. Another day, another bottle., Gerard thinks grimly to himself. As soon as he catches a glimpse of the girl, his mood immediately lightens and his heartbeat speeds up. He smiles at her like always, and for the first time in history, she returns the favor to the semi-intoxicated man, albeit a little forced. Gerard still counts this as progress in his book, the first time she's acknowledged him since he first laid eyes on her. With this immense victory, Gerard makes up his foggy mind. Tomorrow. Tomorrow is the day I'll tell her just how I feel., he resolves, and refrains from skipping to his tiny cubicle, happier than he's been in a while.
The next day, Gerard wakes up in his usual hazy state of mind. Then he remembers, Today is the day. Today is the day I tell her I love her.. He practically hops out of bed, and continues his daily routine, cutting back a small fraction on the alcohol and pills. Excitedly, he races to his car, praying to god there's no traffic on the roads. Gerard curses out loud to no one in particular when he realizes that there's been a pile-up on the highway and traffic isn't budging an inch. "Motherfuck! The one goddamned day I want to be at work and there's a fucking traffic jam!", the frustrated man screams to his empty car.
Nearly an hour and a half later, Gerard parks his car, and races into the office building at full speed. Before he pulls open the heavy door that contains his fate, he pops a few pills for good luck and takes a deep breath, swinging open the large door. He makes a beeline for where he knows her cubicle is located, having memorized the route by heart. However, where he knows her workspace was located just 24 hours ago, is now an empty three-by-four. "No.. No this can't happen! She was just here-I was going to-No!", Gerard murmurs out loud. He grabs a passing co-workers arm, whose name he vaguely remembers as Deborah or something similar. Semi-disgusted, she shakes him off and asks, "Sir, can I help you?". Not exactly sure what to say, he trips over his words. "The girl, who umm, worked here," he said, gesturing to the empty cube, "What happened to her?" Gerard manages to choke out. The woman gives him a confused look, before one of recognition flashes across her face. "Oh, she got married a while ago. She moved to Florida to be with her dying aunt I believe." she answers in a clipped tone, raising an eyebrow. A thousand emotions swirl across his face at once. Hurt, anger, confusion, sadness, and finally the ultimate one of regret. The woman begins to walk away, if it weren't for Gerard spinning on his heel to stop her. "Wait!", he cries out, "What was her name?" "Alicia.", she answers softly as she departs. Alicia. Alicia. Alicia. The name swirls around in his hazy brain as he turns to leave, stumbling out of the office, into his car, and drives back, his body completely on auto-pilot, that name the only clear thing in his fucked up mind. Gerard fumbles with the lock on his front door, not bothering to lock it as he races for the comfort of the other two loves in his sad life. The two loves he knew would never leave him. As he slipped even further into his heavily inebriated state, he pictured the face of the woman who had been his reason to awake, to trudge along in his tiring routine in his mind one last time. The face that now had a name. Alicia.
Sometimes I think I'll die alone.