FicWad

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Gerard`s pov
I sigh deeply, before cautiously answering my phone, placing down the weak plastic bag full of liquor down on the floor between my converse clad feet. I was shocked and more than a little intrigued as to why he of all people was trying to contact me. I briefly considered not answering, or hanging up, but I wanted to be able to hear his melodic voice just once more. It was selfish of me, I knew, considering this was all my fault.
“G…Gerard?” I hear the familiar voice of my former best friend on the other end of the line. Frank`s voice sounded timid and uncertain, it shook with something I was saddened to discover was fear. My ex friend was afraid of me, or more likely afraid or worried about what I was going to say to him. I felt bad, terrible even, even worse than I had all day, but I couldn’t do anything to make it better. Not for him, or for me. I knew that this situation wasn’t fair, not for either of us, but it was fort the best, it had to be. I couldn`t continue being friends with him, being close to him, risking revealing my disgusting, true feelings. He would hate me, even more than he did now. If it was even possible for the short, skinny boy to feel so much hate that is.
“W-what do you want?” I ask coldly, trying to keep as much emotion out of my voice as possible.
“I- I can hear the slightly younger boy sigh, a deep, drawn out tired and broken sound. “Nothing, sorry.” Unable to sand hearing the hurt and confusion in Frank`s voice any longer, knowing it was all my fault and that I was the one who had put it there, I hang up, desperately trying to force the salty tears that dad to form in my eyes from sliding won my pale cheeks.
I hastily and roughly wipe my left hand across my face, drying the dampness that had formed around my tired, sore eyes and place my phone away back in my jeans pocket, switching the damn thing off first. I had missed calls from Mom and Mikey, I had no intention of replying to them, not having the patience or energy to begin to try and calm them done or to explain what was wrong and where I was. I didn’t want to listen to my mother’s desperate pleas for me to come home, telling me how worried and frightened she was for me. I couldn`t be bothered, not after the day, scratch that, few months I had had.
I grab the heavy bag that i had placed by my feet and gently lift it up carrying it carefully, not wanting to break and spill the contents. I find a rusty old bench by a nearby, graffited glass covered park that was by no means suitable for children to play in, and sit down. I sit in silence for a while, debating whether to put my IPod on and listen to it while I admire the view, taking in the dismal looking sky, the week rays of the sun barely providing any warmth, the grungy kids play park that was covered with litter and bits of broken glass and the old rain soaked leaflets advertising local business and take outs. All in all it was not a very nice place to be, but it was better than going home. I would eventually go home later, preferably much later, but right now I was just not able to face it.
An old, grey haired, wrinkled old women out walking her yappy little terrier dog walks past me, being very careful not to make eye contact, a disgusted look on her ugly old, weathered face. I flip her off behind her hunched over back, before leaning down and grabbing a bottle of cheap, nasty tasting alcohol I had purchased a little while before getting the painful call from Frank.
The drink burns the back of my throat, stinging it as I swallow, taking large gulps at a time. It tastes horrible, absolutely disgusting but it was just what I needed to help ease the pain of the past year without Frank. It took the edge of, it didn’t make me feel one hundred percent better and by morning I would most likely feel much worse as my hangover took effect, but right now I just didn’t care. Taking another sip of the cheap, bitter tasting liquid I reach inside my jacket pocket to retrieve my old trusty iPod, placing the headphones in my ears and turning the volume up onto full blast. I don’t care what song was playing, I just wanted some noise, it too helped block out painful, unwanted thoughts, if only for a short while until the battery died.
…
“what time do you call this Gerard Way!?” my mother screams at me as I trudge in the room, slamming the heavy front door shut behind me, the muddy laces of my black converse trailing the carpet behind me. Her face is red, her eyes narrowed in anger, but I can see the love and concern behind it, she was only angry because she cared. She shouldn’t though, I didn’t see how she could. I wasn`t worth caring about, I was a horrible human being, a waste of good, valuable space.
“What time do you call this, Gerard?” she asks again, her hands on her hips, red painted lips frowning up at me.
I shrug, too tired and hurt to answer, not fully aware of anything now the alcohol was beginning to fully take effect. I would be sick as a dog by the time morning came, I knew, but I couldn’t force myself to care.
“Where were you? You could have answered your phone or texted us! We were worried sick!” she points at Mikey who was stood a little behind her and to the right, looking over at me with a relived, shy smile on his pale face.
“out.” I blankly state the obvious. “Where’s dad?” I ask. Not caring where he was really, just wanting to change the conversation, not liking where it was going.
This only infuriates her more, and she so very rudely ignore my question, “OUT!! I know that, but where?! You need to grow up and act your age Gerard Way, instead of sulking down on your room all the time and actually make something yourself before it is too late!”
I narrow my eyes at her. “I went out today, instead of sulking.” I repeat her words, my voce ice cold and bitter.
“And didn’t return until-“ she glances at hr silver wristwatch. “Half past twelve at night! I was about to phone the cops, I was that scared for you!”
I shrug again, wanting this to be over with. The alcohol made me feel so distant from everything else, made it seem les important. I didn’t hurt as much, things didn’t bother me as much, and I liked it that way.
“And you come in drunk!” Mom yells, shocked and even more angry, as though she had only just notice my current state.
“What are you doing to yourself Gerard sweetie?” she asks, in a softer, calmer tone this time. She actually seems genuinely concerned for me, something I find difficult to grasp. She was making me sound like a complete alcoholic, which I wasn’t. If I wanted to have drink every now and then I was entitled to. I wasn’t a baby anymore. And if I felt better with a few drinks in my system, who was she to judge me? She didn’t have a clue what I was trying to cope with on an everyday basis.
Only because you don’t let her, or anyone else in. you keep pushing everyone away Gerard, and sooner rather than later there will be nobody left…
I frown, shake my head, raven locks flying everywhere as I try to clear my clouded, fuzzy head.
“I`m going to bed.” I slur out, pushing past the two of them, and make my way upstairs…