FicWad

Thanks for the reviews guys, I've decided that I will be continuing with this story.
Oh, and sorry if I didn't specify in the summary but this story is most definitely going to be a frerard!
Hope you enjoy this new chapter.

-ASM x3


Gerard's POV

I’m lying down on the small, black leather couch in our cozy living room, starring out the window as I wait for Mikey to get off the phone with the pizza guy. A few moments after Mikey and I walked through the door way, a slight drizzle began to steadily fall from the sky. In the matter of minutes, that small drizzle had escalated to a full on thunderstorm. The sudden change in weather would have surprised me if I hadn’t lived in New Jersey my entire life. Not much sunshine and chirping birds here, just a lot of rain and busy traffic. Looking up into the dark, ominous sky above, I realize how perfectly the weather matches my mood at the moment.


That realization just makes matters worse, so I drag my attention away from the window and scan my eyes quickly around the room I know so well. I rest my dreary eyes on a picture frame placed on the coffee table in front of me. It’s a simple, unprofessional portrait of Mikey, our beloved, deceased grandmother, Elena, and myself. I couldn’t have been more than nine years old when that picture was taken, making Mikey roughly six. We’re both wearing wide, innocent smiles on our faces, contentedly wrapped up in our loving grandma’s arms. Elena was one of the most courageous and beautiful women I ever knew. When she passed away earlier that year, it took a toll on the two brothers.


The death of loved ones affects people in different ways. Mikey, being the sociable person that he is, took comfort in talking it through with his friends and trying to get out of the house as much as possible in order to distract himself. Gerard on the other hand, just shrunk even deeper into his shell of misery and depression.


Depression. What an unjust and simple word used to explain an emotion so complex it’s hard to explain to someone who’s never felt it. I’ve been one of the unlucky kids my age to fall victim to depression so young. At eighteen I should be out partying with my friends on a Friday night, laughing and knocking back a few drinks to unwind after a long week at school. Instead I’m at home with my sixteen year old brother, who would probably be out doing just that if it weren’t for his older brother worrying the shit out of him. I should be the one worrying and looking after Mikes, not the other way around. But I guess that’s just another thing to add to the list of reasons as to why I’m so worthless. I don’t even know how to be a decent big brother.


“Well the pizza guy says it may take a little longer than usual to deliver thanks to the shitty weather, so we should probably just start the movie.”


I nod in agreement and position myself more comfortably on the couch as Mikey gets up to turn off the lights and start the DVD player. Upon his return, he throws himself down on the couch, causing something to rattle in the pocket of my Smashing Pumpkins hoodie. Oh shit, I had forgotten I had those on me. This morning I skipped the first two classes of the day to meet up with an acquaintance of mine, Blaire, a couple blocks away. Blaire is Ray’s older cousin whom I was introduced to a while back. The guy has a nasty habit of making fast cash and breaking the law.


I had taken some money out of the bank account grandma Elena left us when she passed away in order to buy some ecstasy and various prescription pills off of him. Using the money that was meant to be strictly reserved for emergencies tore my heart apart and made me drag a cloud of guilt over my head for the rest of the day. Although, I suppose this could count as an emergency. I had been deprived of those precious, bitter sweet pills for a few days now and was beginning to feel withdrawal take over my body and make me physically ill. I couldn’t let Mikey catch on so I had no choice but to restock.


I froze in fear once I realized that Mikey had heard the rattling in my pocket as well and held my breath, bracing for a question I wouldn’t be able to answer honestly. Instead, to my immense relief, Mikey just shrugged it off and settled down on the couch next to me. I decided to actually make an attempt to concentrate on the blaring television in front of me in hopes of distracting myself from my sudden urge to indulge in the red, blue, and white pills in my pocket.


For the first twenty minutes or so, it seemed to be working. I was half enjoying the movie even though I’d seen it so many times I could recite each word from memory. It wasn’t until I saw, using my peripheral vision, that Mikey had dozed off next to me, that my inner demons began to get the best of me.


Look, he’s asleep. You could just make a quick run downstairs towards your room, pop a few of those oval wonders into your mouth, and wash it down with some Jack. You’d be back in no time, no harm done. What Mikey doesn’t know won’t hurt him.


Damn, why was I cursed with such a convincing alter ego? Finally making up my mind, I quietly make my way out of the living room, careful not to wake Mikey up, and turn on the hall way light leading to the basement. I open up the door and realize Mikey was right; my room was littered with broken liquor bottles. I thought he had been exaggerating to the guys in order to emphasize his point, but I actually think what he said was an understatement. I guess I’ve been so rarely sober lately that I hadn’t noticed, let alone cared, the state of my room.


Careful not to cut myself with any of the broken glass on the floor, I make my way deeper into my room. I pass by my desk that is covered in unfinished drawings and lyrics, all dusty and forgotten. At one point in my life, I was passionately driven by both art and music. People may go as far as to call me a creative genius even though I never considered any of my work to be particularly good. I did have to admit I missed it though. The deeper I fell into the state I’m in now, the less I cared about spending time carefully illustrating and writing down the inner workings of my mind until one day, I just gave it up completely.


Still reminiscing on times when I could vent out my emotions through my art instead of intoxicating myself, I hear a faint noise in the distance resembling a bell. I hear the noise but it doesn’t really register into my conscious brain. I walk towards my bed, focusing again on the task at hand, and reach under it. My hand fumbles along the cold, tiled floor underneath it until I come across what I was looking for. I pull out a half empty bottle of Jack Daniel’s and admire the gleam that shines off the glass as I unscrew the top.


Reaching into the pocket of my hoodie, I pull out five containers, all filled to the brim with my drugs of choice. After a moment of deliberation, I decide on one of them and pop the lid open, revealing a sea of small white pills. I nearly begin to drool as I take out two white wonders and drop them on my tongue. I chew them for a moment before washing away the taste with the strong whiskey in my hand.


I place the bottle of Jack on the floor and throw the containers onto my bed carelessly, making my way upstairs again where I know I’ll find Mikey still sleeping like an angel on the couch. Just as I’m about to turn the door knob, something Blaire said to me today came to mind. He noticed my increased visits to him and thought he should give me a heads up that the more pills I took, the harder it would be for me to get high the next time around. Something about building a tolerance to it.


Knowing the two pills I had taken not two minutes earlier probably wouldn’t have the effect I wanted, I began to make my way towards my bed again. I rummaged through the containers, looking for the ones I wanted. I was so engrossed in my search that the creaking of the stairs behind me, signaling that someone was descending the stairs, went unnoticed. I finally found the container and quickly took out two more pills and eagerly placed them on my tongue yet again.


“Gee? Oh there you are, I thought Dracula had come sucked you dry while I was asleep.” He said with a giggle. “The pizza just got here; let’s go dig in before it gets cold.”


Heart pumping at a thousand beats per second, I turn on my heel to face Mikey and swiftly hide the pill bottle behind my back, not daring to swallow the ones currently in my mouth in fear that he’d notice. He looks me over carefully before saying,


“What are you hiding behind your back? And what do you have in your mouth?”


Guess I wasn’t as swift as I thought. I just stay frozen in shock, not knowing what to say or do.


“Answer me, Gerard.”


I do nothing but continue to stare at my brother wide eyed. He tries to reach behind my back but I move a step away, making sure the pill bottle is out of his reach. He looks at me, confusion evident in his eyes, until I see a spark of something else. Something that looks a lot like dreaded realization.


“Oh, no” Mikey says in a daze, obviously putting the pieces together in his mind. He suddenly punches me in the stomach, and I let out a gasp of surprise. As soon as my lips part, two white pills come rolling out of my mouth and fall to the floor in between Mikey and I.


For a moment, all Mikey does is stare down at the floor, a blank expression on his face. However, I knew it’d be a matter of seconds before the information sank in and he lost it.


“WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?!”


Told you.


“M-Mikey, I-I can explain. I, uh, j-just had a headache.”


Nice going Gerard, he’s totally going to believe that one. Where are Bob’s amazing lieing skills when you need them?


“A headache? Really? Then let me see what you’re hiding behind your back.”


I shake my head vigorously in disagreement until Mikey pounces on me, determined to get what I have hidden behind my back. We wrestle around on the floor until Mikey finally snatches it from my hands. He stands back up while I stay thrown on the floor, too scared of what’s to come.


Mikey scans his eyes quickly over the label on the bottle and shakes his head in disbelief.


“These aren’t fucking pain killers, how stupid do you think I am?” He tears his gaze from the bottle and lands on my bed, where various other containers, similar to the one in his hand, lay.


“Who are you and what have you done with my brother? I can’t believe you Gerard, this isn’t you! The drinking I could take, but this?” He runs a hand through his hair before continuing, voice heavy with tears threatening to come to the surface.


“You’ve turned into nothing more than a worthless junkie, all you fucking care about is this crap now. I’m through trying to help you, when all you do is keep secrets from me. It makes me sick just looking at you, knowing that your blood runs through my veins. I’m ashamed to call you my brother.”


Ouch.


He throws the bottle that was still in his hands at Gerard’s chest and begins to make his way up the stairs. He shoots Gerard a glance over his shoulder and says,


“Have fun drinking and drugging yourself into oblivion, but I’m sure as hell not gonna be around to witness it. I’m off to Ray’s to stay with him for a while.”


I spot a couple of tears trailing down his pale cheeks before he slams the door and leaves me lying on the floor beside my bed. After a few noises upstairs that sounds like Mikey getting his things together, I listen as his converse clad feet stomp their way towards the front door. Mikey slams the door shut with another hard pull, and that hollow, finalizing sound that echoes eerily throughout the now empty house is what makes up his mind.


He too is leaving, just like his brother did a moment ago. The only difference is that Gerard never plans on coming back. Alive, anyway.


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