"Things have never been so swell." [[Contest inside]]
All right, it's not a real huge thing, but somewhere in a paragraph of this chapter, I have written down a few certain lines, and these certain lines belong to a song, only I reworded the song, because I fear plagiarism (sorry for the run-on sentence.) What song? I'm not telling. Who's it by? It's still a mystery. That's the whole contest. So if anyone manages to figure out the song title (I'm not too sure anyone will, all things considered) and who it's by, I will...um...write a one-shot and that one-shot will be of whatever topic you desire. I will be your writer slave, for that one point in time. Sound like fun? Probably not. But I'm a nerd so it sounds like fun to me. Ready? Go!
Chapter 15 – Failed to Fail
Disaster? The word was overused. Nowadays, any minor problem was called a disaster. Nobody knew what it really meant though. It was not a disaster if you got a haircut which made you resemble someone of the opposite sex. It was not a disaster if you dropped your lucky green guitar pick into the Atlantic Ocean. It was not a disaster if you forgot all your chords and solos while at a live concert. It was not a disaster if you tripped over the cord of your own instrument and fell face-first onto the hard, wooden stage in front of two hundred fans. Hell, it was not even a disaster if you broke your five thousand dollar guitar while attempting to do a cool stage move. These not-disasters had all happened to Frank during his lifetime and he had been miserable subsequent to those incidents. When the not-disasters had happened, he had made the silly mistake of calling them their opposites. He had been so young and naïve back then. He hadn’t known that the only disaster on the entire planet had been standing right before his eyes the whole time. And this disaster went by the stage name, Gerard Way.
Frank felt a little guilty about calling his best friend the only disaster on the Earth. After all, he had met plenty others who came pretty damn close. Like Bert McCracken. He might have even been worse than Gerard...at one point... However, Frank didn’t give a fuck about Bert, as he made clear a million times over. He did care about Gerard though; enough to admit that his friend was going down a steep hill, faster than a cheetah on a bicycle. At the bottom of the hill, in the murky river, lay death; like a crocodile with its jaw wide open, smiling wickedly as it awaited its unsuspecting prey. Gerard had gained short spurts of self-control in order to impede his bicycle, but now, he was subconsciously pedaling even faster.
Frank wondered why this had happened. Gerard had seemed fine until a few minutes ago. Of course, the cutting wasn’t exactly what Frank would call ‘good’ but at the very least, it didn’t physically intoxicate Gerard like booze and drugs did. But the singer had just completely freaked out after that! Frank tried to remember when exactly it occurred. He played the just-past conversation in his mind. He recalled that it had been right after he said he loved Gerard like a best friend. A small, guilty smile played at his lips. Was there a possibility that Gerard actually did love him back? Frank chewed on his lip, biting back a giggle as he began to jog; he needed to get to the show. As he hustled, he wondered if there would ever be a way to help Gerard. The only possible solution in his head was to get Gerard professional help. However, he was not sure how his friends would take it if he proposed the idea. Mikey would most definitely throw a fit about it. Honestly, the situation looked nearly hopeless. At the same time, Frank couldn’t give up. Giving up was just not an option.
Pushing the back door open, he stepped into the building. To his surprise, his band mates were not in the waiting area. Grabbing his guitar on the way, he ran towards the stage. Gerard was speaking his greeting and introduction into the microphone while Ray strummed a few random bursts of chords to fill the pauses. Frank frowned. They had started the show without him? Although he felt upset, he plastered a huge grin on his face before running out on to the stage. Hearing all the high pitched screams made Frank’s smile light up. Things felt so fucking good when he was playing a show. He wished real life could be the same.
Remorse was something everybody felt at one point during their lives. It was completely normal, because everybody made mistakes, both trivial and serious. Gerard had made a mistake and he knew that as a fact. But he felt no remorse. Gerard. Felt. Good. Never in a million years had he believed he’d completely be happy with a show, but the one he had just finished was fucking perfect. He had made no mistakes; none, zip, nada. Maybe his voice had even magically transformed itself to sound better. It was all thanks to that beer he had gulped down. However, what he loved most was the expression on Frank’s face. It was contorted to form a forced smile, which Gerard could see right through. He knew that behind it, Frank was crying; sobbing his outsides in. Frank was fucking miserable and this made Gerard beyond ecstatic. After all, it was only fair that he felt the same way he had made Gerard feel. Like they said, what went around came around.
Grinning happily, Gerard stared up at the showerhead, which forcefully spat out hot water. The hotel they were staying in tonight was much better than the Holiday Inn in Minnesota. It was a few hundred dollars more expensive, but Gerard figured it was worth it. Once satisfied with the cleanliness of his body, he stepped out of the bathtub. He snatched a towel and dried himself. After pulling on boxers and a shirt, he strolled out the bathroom, whistling a happy tune. Grabbing the remote on the way, he pounced onto one of the beds. He momentarily glanced at the second bed, which was unoccupied at the moment. It would remain so for his whole stay here because he had refused to share rooms with anyone. That would make sneaking out to the bar so much easier. Swooping blankets over his body, he pressed the ‘power’ button. He attempted to watch South Park for a while, but was just too restless. Entertainment, for him, came in the form of making himself depressed. In a few minutes time, he was leaning against the nightstand, punching in a number on the telephone. He held his breath and crossed his fingers for luck, which he had none of.
The voice which answered didn’t greet him in a very friendly manner, “You have a lot of fucking nerve calling me,” it snarled.
“Hey Bert,” he said. He continued when no sound met his ears, “Um...listen, I’m really sorry about...well...” He twirled the wire around his finger, a thoughtful gesture, “You know...making you cry. I was high and um...just sorry, okay? Will you forgive me?”
A sarcastic sort of snort came from the opposite end of the line, “High? Gerard, you were not high. You knew exactly what you were doing. I have no clue if you did it on purpose, just to fuck me up even more, but it worked anyway. I can’t eat anything and I can’t sleep and I can’t talk to anyone without crying,” his angry tone cracked with a sob, “The worst part is, I can’t even bring myself to do drugs...I can’t smoke and I can’t swallow a drop of beer. How the hell can you ask me to forgive you? You ruined my life.”
Gerard twiddled his thumbs and looked down at the floor. He couldn’t bring himself to say anything useful. A small mumble passed his lips, “I’m really sorry...I still care about you, Bert. You’re still...you’re still my best friend.”
“Shut the fuck up!” Gerard had to move the phone away from his ear because of the volume of Bert’s voice, “I know you’re not really sorry, you never gave a shit about me.”
Anger took over Gerard, “What the hell are you talking about? I was in love with you. You’re the one who never cared enough to even notice. You can’t blame me for finally getting over you.”
A hesitant response followed what seemed like an eternity of silence, “B-but you never told me...”
Gerard could taste bitterness in his throat. How much clearer could he have made it that he was in love with Bert? Did he really have to say it out loud? He sucked in a lung full of air. He could have choked on it. Words wouldn’t bring themselves out of his lips, so he simply left the receiver pressed against his ear. Hush came from the other end too. Gerard sighed out of boredom. If he were to be honest with himself, he would admit that any sort of loving emotion he had for Bert had faded away. He wouldn’t have felt more than a pang of guilt if the guy never spoke to him again. However, that confession would make him feel like a bastard. A feeling as strong as love couldn’t have just disappeared. It wasn’t possible. Nonetheless, the impossible had occurred. With shock and regret, he realized what this meant. Maybe he was never in love with Bert. Maybe he just liked how the blue eyed man wasn’t ashamed to kiss him in public. Maybe that meant the only person he had really always been in love with was...Frank... Tears unexpectedly clouded his vision.
“B-Bert,” he stammered into the telephone, “I’m sorry.” Before his mind had any time to create another thought, he slammed the phone down onto its dock.
His face crumpled as he covered his head with the bed sheets. In his mind, one thought buzzed around. It was just unfair that Frank didn’t love him, especially since he acted like he did. Gerard had seen all the coy smiles, the cute, helpless looks. He had felt the impact of the light, butterfly kisses he received from time to time, on or off the stage. He never would have guessed that they were all fake. Was this God’s twisted way of telling him nobody loved him anymore? Letting out a groan of frustration at where his thoughts were headed, he buried himself deeper into the sheets. The lack of remorse he had felt earlier came crashing back to him now. At the beginning, he had made a promise to Mikey...and broken it by getting his hands on some cocaine, finally causing him to attempt suicide. Then, he had made yet another promise. When he did, he had meant it with all his heart. His only wish had been to cure himself of the nasty addiction. And now he was taking a giant step backwards by planning to creep out of the room and get some booze. What had got him to this endless ring of hopelessness was drugs and beer, and yet, he just wanted more. He was journeying around and around in circles, getting nowhere. Was there even a point to living life on repeat? Well...no... But he had unfortunately discovered that trying to kill himself didn’t really work for him. It was like a heavenly somebody had this weird grudge against him and wanted to make him live miserably rather than die happily.
Sighing, he rolled off the mattress. If he was going to be fucked up until the end of time, he might as well enjoy it. Goodbye to being sober, hello to alcohol. Without bothering to put on any pants (they’d be off soon anyway), he slipped into his loafers. After grabbing room key, he strode to the door. Just as he was about to turn the knob, he heard a knock at the door. Hesitantly, he pulled open the door. Frank.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Gerard snapped rudely.
“Mikey wanted me to check on you,” Frank mumbled simply. “I didn’t tell him about the beer yet...I didn’t tell anyone. I think we should talk about...um...y’know...before I say anything to anyone.”
Gerard rolled his eyes and leaned against the frame of the door. He made an effort to sound apathetic, “There’s nothing to talk about. You don’t love me, I don’t love you. Now just fuck off so I can get drunk,” he attempted to get away from the shorter man. When his tries were unsuccessful, he got angry, “Frank, just leave me alone,” he gave the guitarist a shove.
Frank stumbled back, but grabbed his friend’s arm before more than a few steps could be taken, “As far as I remember, I said I do love you.” He paused and blinked a few times, maybe to send back some tears, “Why’d you have to completely lose control after I said that? Do you...do you not want me to love you?” Taking a brief break again, he moved up close to Gerard. He sucked in air and worked up some courage, “Or was it because you love me more than a best friend?”
The air was silent with suspense as Frank held his breath and waited for a reply; a good reply. His concentration on Gerard’s expression did not help him read the man’s thoughts. Gerard was in an emotional tornado. He was being blown around quite violently and this caused his senses to fail. Since his mind had broken down, his actions were a little less than stupid. No thought was put into it when he formed his face into a dirty scowl and pushed Frank, much rougher than last time. Frank was caught by surprise and fell backwards, but not before kicking Gerard below the knee; hey, he was getting pretty pissed off too. This caused the singer to fall on top of the much-lighter guitarist, all his body weight pressing downwards. Frank was painfully crushed but he hardly noticed. His lips were too busy feeling the sensation of Gerard’s. If only it lasted just a moment longer.
There you go, probably the most cliche accidental kiss EVER. But it was still a kiss, so that's good, right? And speaking of song references, anyone recognize the song from which the title of this chapter and the summary are from? No prize for this one, but I'll give you a hint about it anyway; it's by Nirvana. And also, I'd like to dedicate this chapter to Nirvana. Because I was listening to Nevermind on repeat while writing this chappie.
Read it, rate it, review it. Do whatever the fuck you feel like doing.