Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > And I'll End This Direst: a Frerard story

Chapter 28

by xDescendingAngelx 2 reviews

On the road.

Category: My Chemical Romance - Rating: PG - Genres:  - Characters: Bob Bryar,Frank Iero,Gerard Way - Published: 2009-05-09 - Updated: 2009-05-09 - 1940 words

Frank's POV

I sat in my last class of the day, grateful that I no longer had detention. I was ready to see Gerard and let him know everything would be okay. When the bell rang, I left my class and waited for him outside the door. I waited for him ten minutes and he still hadn’t shown up. Maybe he went home, I thought. I decided I was going to go to his house instead of straight home, just to make sure he knew he wasn’t alone.

I left the school and walked down the street toward his house. It didn’t look like anyone was home, but the door was unlocked.

“Gerard?” I called, going into the kitchen. “Elena?” No one was answering, but I knew Elena would never leave the door unlocked whenever she went somewhere. Suddenly I heard a crash come from somewhere in the back of the house, and I jumped. My first thought was that a burglar was in the house, but why would a burglar unlock and use the front door?

“Gerard?” Gathering all the courage and bravery I could muster, I went for the back of the house to find Gerard’s door cracked. I pushed the door open and gasped in horror.

There was Gerard, passed out on the floor, empty bottle of vodka in hand.

I stood there, comprehending the sight I saw in front of me. So Gerard really hadn’t stopped his drinking like he said he did. I wondered what else he’d lied to me about. I noticed something in his hand—not the hand holding the Smirnoff; the other one. His left hand held a piece of paper with a phone number written on it. Above the number, a messy, “Bob. Call for weekend plans,” was scribbled on it.

My eyes widened; who was Bob? And why would he give Gerard his number? What did he mean, ‘weekend plans?’ I decided to call the number, determined to find answers.

“Hullo?” came a deep, lazy voice after I dialed.

“Hi, are you Bob?” I asked, aware of how stalkerish I sounded.

“Uh, yeah. Who is this?”

Avoiding the question, I asked, “Do you know a Gerard Way?”

A pause, and then, “Yeah, he’s in my English class. Why?”

“Okay, uh… well, my name’s Frank Iero, and—”

“Frank Iero? I’ve heard of you. You’re Gerard’s boyfriend, right?”

“Well, since you know so much about Gerard,” I said, starting to get angry. “Maybe you can tell me why he’s passed out on the floor in front of me with your number in his hand.”

Bob paused again, and then said, “Well, I don’t know why he passed out, but he has my number because I told him I would help him out this weekend, since Mikey’s coming and all.”

“Wait, he was going with you this weekend? What did he expect me to do, then? Face them by myself?” I said angrily to myself, forgetting that Bob was listening. I continued my rant: “He also told me he’d stopped drinking, but apparently he lied to me about that, too, since now he’s out cold on the floor, bottle in hand.”

“Whoa, wait a minute. He passed out because he was drinking? God, he’s in worse shape than I thought. Where are you guys? I’m going to come help.”

“We don’t need help, we can take care of ourselves,” I snapped, unsure of whether I was angrier at Gerard or Bob.

“You need more help than you think you do. Tell me where you are, and I’ll be right over,” Bob said caringly. I gave in and told him Gerard’s address. After I hung up the phone, Gerard stirred and I kneeled down to help him, still pretty pissed at him for the whole thing. He looked shocked to see me, clearly drunk.

“F-Frankie?” he stuttered, unable to even sit up straight.

“Yeah,” I said, helping him up. “Gerard, what the hell were you thinking? You told me you stopped this shit!” I yelled, referring to the alcohol.

“I’m s-sorry,” he said, drunk as hell. “You’re so, so… short.”

I ignored him. “Don’t apologize, you little liar,” I said, unable to contain my anger.

“You’re th’ one who’s little, ‘rank.”

“Gerard!” I yelled, kicking the glass bottle on the floor and watching it smash into little pieces against the wall.

Gerard looked like he was about to cry. Or puke, I couldn’t tell. “No, ya dun udnrstand,” he said.

“What, you’re planning on telling me now? Now that you’re too damn drunk to even speak?”

“M-Mikey… you needtuh get out, ‘rank…” He hiccupped. “Dun worry ‘bout me, I dun deserve yur help.” God, he was slurring so much, I was surprised he was even able to.

“How long have you been drinking?” I demanded. “And why do you have Bob’s number?”

“Bob? Call Bob, he’ll help,” he said, swaying. “And I’ve been drinking for only an hour or five or somethin’, so stop yellin’ adme.”

“I’m not yelling at you,” I said, then stopped because it was a lie. All of a sudden, the doorbell rang. Wow, Bob made good time. I left Gerard to go answer the door, and a blond boy with blue eyes and a lip ring looked back at me.

“I’m Bob,” he said, letting himself in. “Where’s Gerard? Is he okay?”

“He’s fine, he just got up.” I felt like I was spitting at him, I was so mad, but he only wanted to help.

“Bob!” Gerard’s drunk eyes looked up. “Mikey’s on hiz way… we gotta get outta herr.”

“What? That’s ridiculous! Where would we go?” I asked. With a sudden burst of energy, Gerard jumped up and dragged both Bob and me out of the house and to a car I’d never seen before. He constantly amazed me.

“You drive?” Gerard asked Bob. “Gid in,” he told me. I refused.

“Illegally,” Bob answered, shrugging.

“Get in th’ car,” Gerard repeated to me, opening the rear car door and pushing me in. I opened my mouth to object, but Gerard got behind the wheel, waiting for Bob to get in the passenger’s seat.

“Hell, no,” Bob and I said simultaneously.

“But I have a learner’s permit,” Gerard protested. “I know howtuh drive.”

“Not my car; you’re drunk,” Bob said, scooting Gerard over to the passenger’s seat. He got behind the wheel and turned the car on.

I stared at Bob in shock from the backseat. “What the hell are you doing?”

His reply was a simple one: “Helping you guys.” Before I knew it, we were on the road driving south. I was freaking out: here were three guys in a car, all underage and one drunk, and none of them knowing where they were going. No one was speaking. I found myself getting tired in all the silence after a while, and I slowly nodded off to sleep.

I didn’t know how long we’d been in the car by the time I’d woken up, but it was getting dark outside. Bob and Gerard were talking, and I was glad to see Gerard nearly sober again. Now that he was able to think more rationally, I asked him what the hell he was doing.

“Frankie, I’m sorry. I freaked out; I couldn’t control myself.”

“Hey, I’m gonna pull over and get some gas,” Bob said, turning the car into a gas station. “Want anything to eat or drink while I’m out here?”

“Skittles,” I said. Gerard said he didn’t want anything, in fear of puking. Bob nodded and left the car.

“Gerard…” I said, smacking my forehead against the back of the driver’s seat. I was silent for a few moments, then continued, “Gerard, answer this: what the hell were you thinking? You told me you stopped drinking.”

His apology then came. “I couldn’t help it! I got home and dealt with my problem the only way I knew how! I’m sorry.”

I stared at him from the backseat, furious. “You couldn’t help it? You’re sorry? What else can you lie to me about, Gerard? Maybe at least you can tell me the truth about where the hell we are, or why you brought me here. Can you do that?”

“Hey, I did it for you!”

“Bullshit! You were so damn drunk you couldn’t speak! Lie to me again, Gerard.”

He fell silent, then said, “Frankie, I didn’t lie to you. Please don’t be mad at me—”

“Mad, Gerard? You think I’m just mad at you? I’m so pissed at you right now, it’s a miracle I haven’t done anything to land myself in jail! You say you didn’t lie to me, asshole? I’m beginning to think every damn thing you’ve ever said to me was a lie!”

“Frankie, please,” he said. He looked like he was about to cry; I face I saw too often. Too bad, I wouldn’t be helping him out anymore.

Bob’s POV

I took an extra long time getting the gas and snacks. It looked like Frank and Gerard were having a “heart-to-heart” and I wanted to give them time to sort everything out before I got back. Soon I saw Frank stop talking and Gerard slumped in the passenger’s seat, looking sad and dejected.

I paid the lady behind the gas station counter and walked back to my car, hoping everything was alright between them and wishing I had a cigarette.

Frank's POV

Words couldn’t describe how mad I was at Gerard. I just wanted to get the hell out of here. It was weird being near him now that I found out he was lying to me about what I thought was a sensitive subject for him. He was the only person I felt I could trust about my parents and shit; now I felt like I had no one.

“Frankie, please. I’m sorry. I didn’t lie to you; please believe me.”

“I did,” I said as Bob got back in the car and tossed me the Skittles. He got back on the road and we drove for another hour or so until it was too dark to see, even with the headlights on.

“We’re going to have to call it a night,” Bob said slowly.

“There’s nothing around here,” I commented. It was true; we were on a dark road with no civilization anywhere near us. “Where the hell are we?”

“Dunno,” Bob replied. “But we’re going to have to stop somewhere. I’ve been driving since three-thirty.”

“Let’s just pull over here; I guess we can just sleep in the car,” Gerard said, speaking for the first time since we left the gas station a little over an hour ago. Bob did, and turned off the car.

“We really shouldn’t be doing this,” I warned, looking at the woods around me.

“What else can we do? We don’t know where anything is, and I’m not driving anymore tonight.” Bob yawned to emphasize his point.

“Okay, we can sleep here one night, right?” I asked, grateful to have the entire backseat to sprawl out on. Pretty soon, we were all asleep, right there on the side of the road.
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