FicWad

I contemplated on what should I do next. Stalling by taking a long sip of the stall beer, I murmured something as a respond and climbed upstairs to Mikey's war zone room, where I felt like I belonged even though you couldn't tell the colour of the carpet and more often then you'd like found a pair of socks that seen their better days maybe 10 years ago.
On my way to Mikey's room, a door on the left was slightly opened, revealing a yellow wall and a big wardrobe that caught my eye and attention. That was Mrs. and Mr. Way's room.
Despite my logic pleas to walk away, I as expected didn't listen and poked my head through the door. Just one quick glance to see what it's like and I'll be on my way.
Their room was simple and clean, lemon-y walls, heavy wooden wardrobe, big mirror across the bed which evoked my dirty mind with a giggling start, king size bed made with yellow covers to match the walls. Books and a lamp on one side and alarm clock and a white phone on the other side. I went over to the desk of drawers and I don’t know why, but I decided to look though it. I picked up a shirt. This must be Donald Ways.
Took a few weeks to realised that it was Gerard’s fucking Dad who convinced my Dad to make us move here. I know he was caught up over our bitch of a mother, but to take us to a completely different fucking country? One where I’d fucked up even more so than I had in England!?
The door slammed open fully, I looked up sharply and all my anger and disappointment channelled to the pale face in the door way, wearing his own pissed off expression, he didn't say anything, I knew what's going through his mind without him opening his mouth, "Don't what the fuck me! I can do what I fucking like. Look at your fucking parents room!’ I gestured to the box of condoms I’d take the liberty of poking holes in with my earring.
"What my parents do or not do is none of your motherfucking business," he hissed, taking in what mess I turned the room into with his eyes.
"Seems like they do plenty," I jumped to my feet and threw the box at his feet, "They're dirty motherfuckers!"
He took a deep breathe, shutting his eyes, "You had no fucking right to snoop around you fucking bitch. Why can't you just let it fucking go!"
"Let it go?," I yelled, throwing more crap at him, “You owe me, you fucking no good cheat!”
"It's none of your business, and I owe you shit," he started picking up some of the shirts on the floor, "You can't trash my house"
"I hate your house," I clenched my jaw, "And I hate your parents and I hate you"
"Fucking get out," he all but screamed, approaching me with wide steps, "I warned you to leave me alone and you don't listen," he grabbed my wrist and pulled me across the room and out of the room, "You slut. Like your mother! A pathetic whore bitch! Two faced mattress!"
He shut the door and a loud thump let me know he leaned on it or punched it.
I darted down the stairs to the living room and grabbed another beer bottle from one of the near cases, deciding to leave I grabbed my bag pack and was about to storm out of the house but I didn't. Something stopped me from going, I couldn't make another step, it was almost super natural. I glanced at Georgia who for some reason was sitting hugging her knees on the sofa, watching the news. I shook my head. She was the two faced mattress!
What did he call me? A slut? A whore? I'll show him a whore.
I glanced back and tip toed down to the basement where his room was.
Planning on wrecking it too but the first thing that caught my attention was all the drawings hanging on the wall, Pages that looked like they were torn out of his notebook and carelessly hung on the wall without any kind of order on pattern.
I got closer to look and stumbled on something in the dim light. I landed on bunch of comic books, Mikey had these too. I flipped through them, squinting down at the cartoons and looking around the dim room. It was as messy as Mikey's, clothes on the floor, bed unmade and I could spot some empty bottles under the bed.
Near his bed lay another notebook, similar to the one he usually carried around, it was dark blue and had a lot of pages ripped cruelly out of it. A pencil was tucked between the pages, that berried an unfinished drawing of yet another comic hero with fangs and a cape, something like a unsuccessful Dracula caricature. All over the floor were pages crumpled to little angry balls. I opened one and the letters G and F were scribbled all over it, carelessly, some were pressed so hard into the page, it almost wore the page down, some where a joint drawing of both G and F. I clenched the page in my hands.
Heavy steps down the stairs made my heart beat escalate, I tucked the page in my pocket on instinct as I shrunk back against the bed, hopping at least this once darkness will consume me and protect me. Georgia and Gerard collapsed in the room, kissing as though she was his air, and he was drowning. I couldn’t help notice, that he’d never kissed me like that. He lifted her on to the large bed and I felt I had to make my presence known.
"Fuck," he gasped, "You're still here"