FicWad

DESOLE
It started out very faint, very quiet. It was a beeping sound, over and over again repeating itself. It kept getting louder until it was all that I could hear. My first guess was that it was my alarm clock and I was going through the early stages of a terrible hang over. I laid there in what I thought was my bunk, just listening to that beep. It was getting annoying, so I tried to reach over and turn if off. But for some reason my arms wouldn’t move. It was ad if somebody had tied them down with sand bags. This terrified me at first. I told myself to stay calm, just hold still for a moment or two and figure this out.

I realized how tired I was. I felt like I could sleep for weeks undisturbed and I wanted to. But that fucking alarm clock! All I wanted was to fall back asleep and get more rest before the show tonight! Was that so much to ask? I laid there, eye clamped shut, and realized that somebody was also on the bus with me. But it wasn’t a group of people, it was one person. I hoped it was Milo. Then I realized that not only was I not with my band, I wasn’t on the bus either. I didn’t hear the engine or feel the bus moving. Had we stopped at a hotel last night? We weren’t supposed to, we had to get to Vegas tonight.

I parted my lips and took a big breath. It felt as though they had been sealed shut. How long had I been asleep? The air tasted sterile and smelled like a dentist office. Was in a fetish shop or something? This couldn’t be a hotel. An insane asylum maybe? I laughed to myself at the idea of opening my eyes and finding myself in a rubber room. But then I got kind of scared by that thought.

I decided that I had to open my eyes and find out where I was and who was with me. I held my breath and counted to three. One, two…three-

I felt blinded, like somebody was shining bright stage lights right above my head. I blinked rapidly to adjust to the harsh florescent light that was reflecting off of white walls. Without moving my head or body, I looked around the room. White walls, a tope curtain on one side of me, drab pink furniture. I was in a bed, a hospital bed with all these weird adjustment buttons and such. I felt myself start to panic. What if I really was in a mental hospital? I wasn’t in restraints or anything so if I was it couldn’t be that bad. There was an IV pole inside the curtain right nest to my bed. The bag was filled with clear liquid and had a drip leading into my left forearm. I watched the fluid drip for a while, hypnotized by it almost. I realized that the “alarm clock” was a heart monitor hooked up to me.

When all of this really registered with me I was in shock and but one thought was passing through my mind; what had I done last night?

I looked over to my right, back at the furniture near the door. I wanted the person in the third chair to be Milo so bad, but it was Gerard. He looked a mess. His hair was gnarled and tangled even more than usual. The dark circles under his eyes were even more profound. His shoulders were hunched and he had his right leg crossed over the other. He was clothed in his usual gothic garb; black shirt, black blazer, black jeans. His unwashed hair hung in front of his face, but I could still see it. He was pouring all his attention into a magazine who’s title read “Teen Scene” in hot pink letters. I almost laughed out loud as I watched him read it. He was so focused on it, too, that made it even better. He didn’t even see me watching him, like I wasn’t there at all.

I felt this weird sort of tickle in my heart as I looked at him, the same sort of tickle I got when I saw Leah for the first time. It was like I was seeing him clearly for the first time. But that little tickle scared me so bad. Last time it happened, things fell into a million pieces and all I got out of it was the half of my rotten little heart that Leah hadn’t taken with her. That and a sea full of tears and a life long phobia of love. I didn’t want to like him, it was so much easier just to hate him and be mean. But even being mean was getting hard because he was one of the sweetest guys I’d ever met. It was funny for such a tiny, itty bitty feeling could send a wide spread panic all through you.

I closed my eyes again, hopelessly lost in a pool of my own thoughts. I let out a distressed and gasp-like groan. My voice was so frail and weak from not being used. Gerard looked up from the magazine to see that I had awoken. A light appeared behind his hazel eyes and he stood up, leaving the magazine behind on the ugly chair.

“Hey, you’re awake.” he smiled, walking over to me. He looked happy and at ease but it was easy to tell it was all forced. Behind his smile was straight up concern and worry. I could feel it. I was sure that if he kissed me I would feel it even more…

“I hurt.” I said impishly, mentally scolding myself for that last thought. It was too dangerous to feel things like this, especially since I had no idea what was going on or where I was or the reason why I was here.

“I know, you took quite a beating last night.” Gerard said sympathetically. I frowned because I didn’t recognize what he was talking about. “Do you remember anything about last night?” he asked when he saw me frowning.

When he uttered the words “last night” everything came rushing back to me in a sort of landslide slap in the face. We had gone out clubbing, I got drunk off whisky, danced on a tables, was carried by Gerard through the club and the last thing I remembered was the pain as some crazy drunken hick smashed a bottle right in my face. I felt my eyes widen as I watched the messy scene play out in my mind like a horror film.

“I remember…but its all a little fuzzy.” I mumbled. Gerard nodded and strolled over to pick the magazine up off the chair.

“We went out and somebody spiked your whisky. We think it was ecstasy.” he explained. I rolled my eyes; it was always something! “And then you fell off the table and I had to carry you so that we could find Milo and then somebody broke a bottle over your head.” he continued.

“Aw, fucking shit!” I cursed loudly. “Where’s Milo? Where am I? Have I been out and when can I leave?” I asked, trying to get up. Gerard hurried back over and gently pushed me back down.

“Careful, you cracked a rib when you fell off the table. You also fractured your ankle ‘cause of those platforms you insist on wearing.” he said. I gaped at him for a moment.

“You’ve got to be kidding me! Fuck!” I said, very frustrated. “Answer my questions!” I snapped at him after a brief pause. Gerard sighed patiently.

“Milo is downstairs getting coffee. You’re in an emergency clinic just out side of LA. You’ve only been out since we left at about twelve last night, so maybe ten hours. You have to stay the rest of the week. Their afraid you have brain damage.” Gerard said, making sure to cover all of my inquiries.

“GAH! No! this will fuck up the entire tour! I have shows to put on! I have people to meet! My fans need me Gerard, they need me!” I exclaimed, sitting straight up. I was about to rip the IV out of my arm and jump out of bed but Gerard’s gentle hand and the shooting pain in my left ribs forced me back down.

“God damn it! Fuck, fuck, fuck! I hate everybody right now!” I cursed loudly, not caring if I woke anybody up or disturbed somebody. I started pounding my finger down on the button that calls a nurse into your room.

“Hello?” asked a female nurse through the little speaker.

“Hey, would one of your bitches PLEASE get me some fucking pain meds! I am DYING over here!” I snapped at whoever was on the other line. She sighed as if to say “here we go”.

“Right away…” she grumbled before hanging up.

“Was that really necessary?” Gerard scolded. I stuck my tongue out at him and made a face. He started laughing lightly and it made me even more upset.

“Wipe that stupid smirk off your face! What’s so funny?” I barked, only making him laugh harder.

“You’re pretty cute when you’re mad.” he chuckled. I felt my anger subside immediately, but I didn’t let it show. Was he being flirtatious? That was my job…

I grumbled incoherently and crossed my arms over my aching ribcage. Gerard just smirked some more and plopped the magazine down on my lap. The cover was a picture of Gerard carrying me into a car. My face was bloody and cut up. I cringed. Good thing I blacked out. I flipped through the pages until I found the story about the picture. It read:

“Has the partying finally gone too far? Gerard Way of the Goth-glam-rock group My Chemical Romance seen here with Desolé Vogue, front women for retro-reality punk band The Moment. Reportedly, the couple was seen yucking it up at the retro pop club Lift with fellow band mates. And all too soon, Desolé had let her drinking it out of hand again! The waiter that served the two said Way and Vogue had been all over each other but it wasn’t long before Way lost control and Desolé was dancing on the table tops and collapsed. It is unknown whether or not Desolé’s facial wounds are from her fall or not. Gerard refused to make a comment as he rushed his love out to the nearest hospital.”

I stared at the blurry and grotesque images on the glossy paper of the magazine.

“The press thinks we’re a couple.” Gerard mumbled shyly. “Its like they go about looking for ways to twist the truth and lie to people.” he added a little bitterly. I wasn’t really shocked about the article. In fact I kind of expected it. Ever since the band had started touring the press had been hot on my tail about my devious past and grim future. I honestly didn’t care whether they loved or hated me. If you were disgusted by my work that’s just as good as if you loved it.

“Hm…” I said softly without opening my mouth. I sighed heavily and handed the magazine back to Gerard. “Ugh, get that out of my sight.” I said, rolling my eyes. Gerard nodded and tossed the piece of trash in the waste bin in the corner. I noticed something reflective on the chair Gerard had been sitting on earlier. I stared at it for a second and realized it was a mirror. Why was it over there? Probably for me to inspect the damage done to my face. Might as well…

“Hey, wanna hand me that mirror over there. I wanna see how bad this is.” I said gesturing to my entire face. Gerard suddenly became very cautious, stepping back slowly.

“Um, I don’t think that’s such a good idea.” he said. I raised an eyebrow.

“Come on, it can’t be that bad.” I said, rolling my eyes again.

“The nurse said to wait until somebody was in here with us. I don’t think you should look.” he warned.

“Come on, hand it over.” I ordered a little more firmly. Gerard shook his head, hiding the mirror behind his back. I was getting fed up. “Give me the mirror!” I barked loudly.

“Okay, okay! Don’t get so snippy!” he said defensively, holding his hands up, the mirror clasped in one of them. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you…” he said cautiously handing the mirror to me as if it were a pipe bomb.

I gasped when I saw myself. There were cuts and scrapes all up and down my face! Some of them looked fresh, come looked kind of scabby. Some were so bad they had to be held together with little strips of medical tape. I was shocked and appalled, but what did I expect, that bitch broke a bottle on my face? My eyes were so blood that it reminded me of my stoner days back in high school. There were dark purple circles around my eyes and my cheeks were so sallow and sunken that I looked like a corpse.

“Uh!” was all I could manage to choke out. I blinked at myself a few times to make sure it was really me. I reached up and touched one of the cuts and jumped when I realized it was my reflection I was seeing and not some gruesome painting.

“Don’t get mad, but I mean, come on; there were shards of glass sticking out of your face.” Gerard said, gingerly sliding the mirror out of my hands and putting it back on the chair. I just sat there, staring, devastated. My face was one of the few things I liked about myself and now it was all gross looking!

“This isn’t permanent right?” I asked. I had to make sure. Maybe they could so some sort of reconstructive surgery if it was. I could not live out the rest of my life like this.

“Naw, the doctor said you’re cuts would heal in a few weeks tops.” Gerard reassured me. I breathed a very heavy sigh of relief.

“Thank god! Did Milo bring my things with him?” I asked, looking around and not seeing my bag. I wanted my make up so I could see how much it would take to cover up this disaster area I now called my face.

“Yeah, he has them with him. I don’t know what’s taking him so long. He said he was just getting coffee.” Gerard shrugged. I sighed and laughed a little; with Milo, it was never just coffee, it was coffee and an entire shopping trip.

“You have to get out now.” I said, pointing to the door. Gerard smirked again.

“Why?” he asked.

“One, I have no make up on and only Milo is permitted to see me as such. Two, I look like fucking Sloth from The Goonies.” I said, smiling blatantly. Gerard laughed loudly.

“You do not look like Sloth!” he protested, standing right next to my bed. It felt weird but nice to have him so close to me. A lot of things about Gerard were weird but nice.

“I look like crap, now leave!” I exclaimed, giggling all the. Gerard got serious all of the sudden and my laughter died away.

“You do not look like crap. You never look like crap.” he said quietly. I stared at the off what blanket covering me from the waist down and then up at Gerard.

“Thank you…” I said shyly, childishly. Without taking our eyes off of each other, Gerard rested his hand on top of mine. We stared into each other’s eyes, kind of holding hands, kind of not. I felt like this moment was lasting forever. How much longer could it possible go on?

“WASSUP BITCHES?” Milo exclaimed, bursting into the room along with the nurse I’d pestered for pain medication. Gerard and I flew apart and stared at them anxiously to see if they’d noticed us holding hands. Milo and the tired looking nurse paraded in and the nurse hooked more morphine to my IV. They hadn’t seen us.

I glanced at Gerard and he half smiled at me. I half smiled back at him. I guess that little moment was one of the view that would stay private between us…