FicWad

A/N: Hey y'all, not sure where this story is going or anything, I just have major writers block and so I'm really just writing this to try and break out of it, and hopefully once I have I can add to 22 Acacia avenue. Just a little warning - this is about Gerard drinking and so if that offends you please dont read it, also I love Bert Mccracken so anything said in this is no offence to him.
That is all... I think :P
Reveiws are still loved :] xox



I walked through the apartment wondering where he was. I prayed he hadnt gone out with Bert again, that guy was a bad influence. The apartment was dark and quiet and I guessed he probably had gone out with Bert. I snorted moodily to myself and went over to the bathroom door, deciding I would take a shower and then go to bed, I wasnt going to let him bother me tonight.
I twisted the handle of the bathroom door and stepped inside, coming to a halt just in the doorway, a low groan escaping my lips. Not again.
"Geraaarrd..." I whined, as if he could actually hear me. "Fucking hell, I cant leave you alone for five fucking minutes." I snapped, I had been in this situation so many times before any fear I may have felt those first few times just didnt return, now I just felt angry and exhausted. I dropped to my knees beside him and pulled his twisted limbs into the recovery position, dropping the empty vodka bottle into the bathtub, he didnt move or make any sign of being alive but he was breathing, if only slightly and I checked his pulse to find it was weak. He was bad tonight, but he had been worse and I knew he would be extremely angry if I took him to the hospital. Outside help was only for a last resort... and he still wouldnt like it.
"Why do you do this to yourself?" I whispered to his still form, brushing his black hair out of his face, his skin deathly pale against the coal black. I continued stroking his hair as I watched him, sleeping or unconcious? Who knew, probably the latter. I sighed and shifted into a more comfortable position, leant against the side of the bath. I didnt want to move him just incase, and I wasnt going to let him out of my site for a second. Looked like I would be spending my night on the bathroom floor... again.
"I should leave you ya' know? Pack my bags and run like hell before you drag me into oblivion along with you. And I would leave to, if I wasnt so damn scared you'd end up killing yourself." The only time I could ever tell him this was when I knew he couldnt hear me, when he was passed out on the floor. "Your such a bastard Gerard Arthur Way. I hope you have the worst hangover known to man when you wake up." I knew deep down that he deserved a lot more than just a hangover for all the shit he kept putting me through, but even wishing a simple headache on him made my heart thud with guilt. It was times like this when I wished I didnt love him.
"Uuh... Fr - Frankie..." He groaned, his head lolling to the side, I crawled closer to him and tucked some of his hair behind his ear. He wasnt quite awake yet, just getting there.
"Frank.... ie..." He whined.
"Yes Gee, I'm here babe. Its okay." I whispered gently, he groaned and curled his knees up to his chest, trembling all over.
"Ugh... feel...sick..." He slurred. I sighed and wrapped my arms round him, struggling to get him to kneel infront of the toilet, he was like a dead weight, not bothering to move at all. His eyes were still closed and his lips parted as he groaned in my arms. I gently made him lean over the bowl of the toilet and waited for the inevitable, and sure enough it wasnt long until his muscles tensed and I had just enough time to pull his hair back before he was vomiting into the toilet through a serious of violent heaves. I rubbed his back with one hand and kept his hair out of his face with the other, breathing through my mouth in an attempt to not smell his sick. I didnt have the strongest of stomachs and this past year I had had to get used to the sight and smell of sick. It hadnt been easy.
"Thats it Gee, let it all out." I encouraged, the words flat with no emotion after being said so many times. I sighed and looked towards the door, wondering what I would be doing now if I had left Gee a long time ago, when all this had first started. Where would I be? Who with? Doing what? I couldnt think of anything at all, the only thing I could imagine myself doing was this - sitting on a bathroom floor and waiting for my alcoholic boyfriend to stop puking.
"I deserve better." I whispered to myself. Gerard was crying and sniffling, his vomiting subsiding.
"I - I'm sor - sorry." He whimpered. He sounded so broken and I wondered whether he had woken up enough to understand what I had just said, I instantly felt guilty and bit my lip.
"Dont be sorry, are you done being sick now?" I asked gently. His sniffed and nodded, tears streaming down his face. I leant round him to grab some tissue and clean him. He was silent and kept his bloodshot eyes directed at the floor as tears continued to roll down his cheeks, one I had cleaned him up I helped him to his feet and let him lean on me as I led him to the bedroom. He whimpered random words out to me as we stumbled through the apartment, he said sorry a lot but mainly I didnt bother listening. I didnt want to listen, I just wanted to get him asleep.
Once we got to the bedroom he lay down on the bed and didnt say a word as I helped him out of his clothes, then pulled the cover over him. I kissed his forehead and brushed his hair back, offering him a weak smile which he struggled to return. When I went to walk away he called out to me with a weak voice.
"Arent you coming to bed?" I turned to look at him and sighed, trying to look positive.
"No, I'm just gonna go watch some TV. But you get to sleep and I'll be back later okay?" He didnt answer me, he didnt even nod, just looked at me with watering eyes and I had to walk away before I began to cry myself. I wanted to hate him for this but he just reminded me of a little lost child that I needed to protect, I couldnt hate him and I couldnt stay mad at him. His drinking was not only destroying our relationship, it was killing him and tearing me apart. I wanted to help him so much but he refused to go to the doctors or rehab, he wouldnt join any Alcoholics Anonimous groups and he wouldnt even let his own brother help him. And I knew exactly whose fault it was. I knew who to blame.
Bert Mccracken.
If I ever saw him myself I would kill him...