FicWad

Hey! I'm sorry I didn't update yesterday, my iPad died in school before I updated, and that's where the chapter was saved. And I don't have Internet at home at the minute, so yeah. But here, have an update! ILY!
Naren/Isabelle's POV
The bus pulled up at the mall, and I wasn't the only one to get off at that point. A group of four young teenagers were taking a trip to the mall, too. Except they were laughing and joking around, and having a fantastic time, filling up the bus with noise. Whereas I was quite the opposite, and I was quiet, I was given more disapproving looks. A woman in a suit looked from my shabby converse to my faded black jeans to my Demolition Lovers hoodie, which still had a faint bloodstain on it. I stared back at her until she sniffed sourly and turned her attention to what was going on outside the window. Probably judging people on how expensive their cars were or something.
'She musn't be too rich if she had to get a bus.' I thought.
The mall was pretty big and had some pretty good stores. I wandered aimlessly around the mall, taking in my surroundings and looking for somewhere to go next. I spotted a Hot Topic and my heart instantly lifted. Hot Topic meant that I could get more band merch and posters! My hand trailed lazily along the rack of hoodies, and not many caught my eye, so I turned my attention to the jeans. Black jeans, red jeans, orange jeans, yellow jeans, green jeans, blue jeans, purple jeans, pink jeans, multi colour jeans, tiger print jeans, you name it, they had everything. This Hot Topic was pretty big. I grabbed a pair of tartan jeans and proceeded to browse through the store. I picked out a My Chemical Romance Hoodie, which was plain black and said My Chemical Romamce on it in white, a Bullet For My Valentine T Shirt, an Asking Alexandria T Shirt and a pair of tartan jeans. I found the changing rooms and went to try them on. The shirts were fine, and I smiled as I pulled my own T Shirt over my head. The hoodie was perfect, baggy and several inches too long in the arms. I pulled the jeans up over my legs, and found that I couldn't button them up. I stared at my reflection in the mirror.
'You're so fat!'
I'm not fat... Am I?
My stomach poked out a few centimetres above the waistband of my jeans. Maybe I could lose just a bit of weight. Just a little bit. My eyes moved to my thighs, and widened as I realised for the first time in my life just how big they were. And my arms too! And is that... A double chin?
Time to face the facts, Isabelle. You're disgusting. Wake up.
I angrily ripped the jeans of and threw them on the floor, and pulled up my other ones. Even though it was warm in the mall, I shrugged on my oversized hoodie, and buried myself in it, covering up my newly discovered hideous body. I marched out of the changing rooms and back to the main store, and the piercing section automatically caught my eye. I scanned the display for what I needed, and eventually found it. Three lethal looking needles, two lip studs, and a septum ring. Then to the hair dyes. Hmm.... Bleach.... Bleach.... Bleach... Found it! And what colour? Pink? Too girly. Red? Maybe. Green? Nah. Turquoise? Meh. Dark blue and black? Hell yes! I delightfully grabbed the box dyes from the shelf, grinning to myself. Quite cheerful compared to what I was before, I headed towards the posters and CDs. I bought a shitload of posters, enough to cover one entire wall for now. I had four huge MCR ones, three huge ish Green Day ones, one fairly big Nirvana, The Misfits, Bullet for my Valentine, Iron Maiden, Blink 182, Four Year Strong, All American Rejects and Linkin Park. I didn't have a basket, and I was struggling to carry everything I had, but I still looked at the CDs. My heart positively stopped when I saw it. There, sitting all by itself, was a copy of I Brought You My Bullets, You Brought Me Your Love. I forgot how to breathe, and my face was bright red by the time I remembered how to move oxygen in and out of my lungs. My fingers clasped over the CD, and I felt like I was going to explode with happiness. I probably looked like an idiot, the amount of stuff I was carrying. I payed for my stuff, not even blinking at the expense of it. Better spending nearly $100 dollars in Hot Topic than on cocaine. Carrying a few bags, I left the store. Normally I hated shopping, but if it involved posters, CDs, hair dye, piercings and posters, then it was okay. I strolled around the mall, and felt the happiness in me burn out slowly, and the sadness creep back in. Why couldn't I be happy for more than five minutes? Why?Because my life was a fucking mess. I've grown up with an alchoholic, drug addict abusive mother, ran away from home, nearly died, I saved by none other than Gerard Way, found happiness, made a friend, kept that happiness for a while, reported my mother to the police, and BAM social services. I have to start a new school. That's not so bad. In my old school I was ignored most of the time, but a few people picked on me a lot. No big deal. Maybe in my new school I would be able to make a few friends, right? And that boy with the glasses in my foster home, he seems alright. He doesn't seem like an inconsiderate git, like the rest. And maybe they would lay off after a while. Or maybe I could learn to stick up for myself. I was so lost in my own thoughts that I bumped into some huge, dark shape that knocked me flying.
"Shit!" I exclaimed. Looking up, I discovered that it was a person I had bumped into. Skinny, tall (making me look like an elf), and wearing an apologetic smile.
"Sorry!" I said, picking myself and my bags up from the ground.
"Don't worry about it! I wasn't paying attention either," he said.
I laughed uncertainly, not sure what to do. Do I tell him my name? Do I walk away?
He broke the silence for me. "So who're you with anyway? You look kinda lost."
"Oh, I'm on my own," I said casually.
"On your own? You came to the mall on your own? Why? Why not with your friends?" he asked.
"I have no friends," I mumbled.
"But you look so awesome!" he protested. "Oh my god, you should totally meet my friends!"
I looked up at this tall, skinny boy uncertainly. He didn't seem exactly... normal. Or maybe he was just hyper. I meant to decline his offer, and tell him something about really needing to get home. But instead I said, "Sure."
"This way!" he giggled, swiftly walking past me. I turned on my heel and followed him towards the cafeteria.
"So what's your name?" he asked conversationally.
"Isabelle. I hate it. You?"
"I'm Tristan. And Isbelle's a pretty name, why don't you like it?"
I shrugged and said nothing.
"I should forewarn you about our group. The chick with the spiky blonde hair, beware, do not, I repeat, do not, insult Harry Potter in front of her. Or me," he warned. "Never. Insult. Albus. Dumbledore. In front of me," he said, doing an amazing Hagrid impression complete with the death glare he gave Vernon Dursely, and an imaginary flowery umbrella.
"S'okay, I'm a huge Potterhead. Don't even get me started!" I grinned.
"Oh my god, what house are you?" he asked, all seriousness from the Rubeus Hagrid impression gone.
"Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure!" I chanted.
"Ravenclaw! I'm a Hufflepuff, and proud," he declared, making me beam.
"I love Hufflepuff Pride. It makes me really happy and stuff. Even if I am Ravenclaw," I said.
"Yeah well, what can I say? Badgers are beast," he grinned.
"Indeed they are, my fellow Hogwartian!" I said.
He laughed as we entered the food court, then gestured to a group of teenagers sitting in the corner by the window. "That's them! They'll love you, just don't say anything bad about Harry Potter, Batman, The Umbrella Academy, The Avengers, My Chemical Romance, Black Veil Brides, Doctor Who, Sherlock, unicorns or Greek mythology, One Direction or Olly Murs and you won't offend anyone. I think I covered them all," he said, his brows knitted together in concentration.
"Dude. I love most of those things. Except Black Veil Brides, I don't know who they are. And I haven't watched Sherlock. Or read the Sherlock Holmes books. Although I should really get round to that some time. And I don't like One Direction, but I won't say anything about them."
"Oh dear... Dear, dear, dear. I'm afraid, Miss Isabelle, that Sophie never shuts up about Black Veil Brides. Within five minutes you'll know whether Ashley Purdy had orange juice or apple juice this morning with his breakfast," he sighed.
I nodded. "Don't worry. I'm absolutely obsessed with My Chemical Romance, so I know exactly what you mean. They're my favourite band. They've done so much for me..." I trailed off, pointing at my hoodie.
"What happened to your sleeve?" he asked, gesturing towards the faded bloodstain.
"Oh, nothing. Nothing, at all, just spilled something over it," I said, blushing bright red.
He raised an eyebrow but said nothing else. We reached the table the group was sitting at, and Tristan introduced me.
"Hey guys! I found this girl walking around on her own, funny story, I accidentally knocked her onto the ground..." he frowned. "But her names Isabelle!"
I smiled shyly at them, blushing furiously.
"You gonna sit down or...?" asked a grinning girl with long coppery red hair.
I sat down in an unoccupied seat, and remained in silence, as Tristan sat down opposite me.
"Is anyone gonna talk?" he asked the large group.
"Gryffindor are in the lead for the house cup, then we're second by 47 points, then Ravenclaw, then Slytherin are only 10 points or so behind them," said the girl with spiky blonde hair that I had received a forewarning about.
"Nice! Badgers coming second! We can catch up!" cheered Tristan.
"But Gryffindor are gonna win, like always!" protested a boy with messy blonde hair.
"What house are you in?" the red headed girl asked me.
"Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure," I chanted, again.
"Ravenclaw, cool!" she said.
We talked about Harry Potter for a while, or rather they talked while I sat back and observed the group, speaking only occasionally, or when I was asked question. Then the topic of music came up.
They were talking about their favourite bands' new albums and shows, and stuff like that. I absent mindedly took out my phone and started to work on texting Jason, Gerard and Mikey.
The first one was for Jason.
Hey :) It's Naren. How are you? Missing you, haha!

The second for Mikey.
Hi, it's Naren. Care home is shit. So far, any way. How's life been for the past few hours?

And the final for Gerard.
Hey, it's Naren. I just sent Mikey a text. Yeah, the care home is pretty shitty so far. How's Bandit and Lindsey and Donna and you and Mikey?

"Isabelle, what music do you like?" someone asked.
"My favourite band's My Chemical Romance," I answered immediately, my head snapping up.
"Really? Oh my god I love you! My favourite bands are Black Veil Brides, Green Day, A Day to Remember and MCR! My name's Sophie by the way. Do you like Black Veil Brides?" she said.
"Never heard of them," I said meekly.
"WHAT?! OHMYGOD, they're like super amazing, the members are called Andy Biersack, he sings, Ashley Purdy, he plays bass, Jinxx, guitar, Jake, guitar, and CC on drums. And they wear war paint and it's so fucking sexy and Andy's obsessed with Batman, and Ashely's really dirty minded, but we in the BVB army say Purdy minded, and he loves Hello Kitty, and OMG he's so hot, and he wears this bracelet that says boobies, and Jinxx and Jake are amazing at guitar, and CC is kick ass at drums, and Andy has such beautiful blue eyes and AAHHHHGGGHHH," she shrieked.
I laughed nervously, trying to think of something to say. But I was saved the task of speaking first by Tristan.
"Have you ever seen MCR live?" he asked.
I shook my head. "I could never afford it. But when they came to New York, I tried to sneak in. I got caught though. My mom was livid..." I said, shuddering as I remembered the consequences.
"Me and Sophie went to see them about a year ago. And went to a meet and greet. They're really nice, and I have to say I did a fair amount of fanboying. And you used to live in New York? Why did you move here?" he asked.
"Long story. And I've met Gerard and Mikey, I ran into them on the street," I said, sparing them the whole 'Gerard stopped me from bleeding to death and now we're friends and I have their numbers and he said that he would kill me if I don't keep in touch with him' story.
"Woah...." he said, awestruck.
"Hey we're going out on Saturday, wanna come?" asked Sophie.
"Umm... Okay," I said.
"Great!" Tristan said, clapping his hands together like a seal.
We exchanged numbers, and they promised to text me the details of when and where we were meeting up.
I got to know the rest of the group over the next hour or so. There was Chloe,Rachael, Lauren and another Lauren. Chloe had long, dark, wild curly hair, purple glasses framing her chocolate brown eyes, she was of a slightly less than average height. Rachael had long dark blonde hair, which came to just above her elbows and was straight and shiny and neat. She had a pretty pale ish face, and cute rosy cheeks. She was the tallest of the four girls. One of the Laurens was around the same height as Rachael, and had extremely long, beautiful hair. It was dark at the top, and almost white blonde at the bottom. She had a round, pale face and pretty brown eyes, and cute little dimples when she smiled. She preferred to be called either Lauren 1 or Thing 1. Or just Lauren. The other Lauren had messy dark brown hair which came to her shoulders, and was cut with choppy layers and a swoopy side fringe. She had blue eyes, with a few flecks of grey through them, and she was short. Her face was pale, with a slightly unhealthy look to it, and her eyes were surrounded by a thick layer of black eyeliner. She was Thing 2, Lauren 2, or Other Lauren. It was plain for anyone to see that these four girls were absolute best friends, and inseperable.
Sitting beside them were Sarah, Neve, David, William, Alex, Lorna, Aimee and Luke.
Sarah had cherry red shoulder length hair, a tanned face and freckles, and she was tall ish and skinny. Neve had short black hair which looked like it hadn't been brushed in days. She was extremely skinny, and had black No Fear glasses. She talked in a posh accent, and she was reading through a pile of Batman comics. David was tall, and he had messy blonde hair and green eyes. He had a sturdy figure, he wasn't skinny or scrawny. He was what some girls would call 'hot' because of his 'super strong muscles'. William had short brown hair and brown eyes, and he had a sarcastic glint in his eye, and he looked like the sort of person who made fun of everything that came under his nose. Alex also had short brown hair. He had braces and a tan face, and a wide grin that, although it sounded cheesy, had the power to light up the room. Lorna had short curly brown hair and brown eyes. She was short, and wore heels to try and make up for her height. Aimee was tall, and she had short, straight blonde hair. She had far too much make up on her face, but she managed to still look pretty. Luke had short hair, and he was a redhead. He had freckles, and he was chubby. He had green eyes, and a cheeky grin. There were a few more, but I forgot their names almost instantly.
When seven o'clock came, I was shocked to see how long I had been out for.
"Uhm, I need to go now," I said to Tristan.
"Oh," he said disappointedly. "How are you getting home?"
"Bus," I answered.
"You want me to give you a lift? I'm going to my sister's house soon anyway," he asked.
"You drive?" I didn't realise he was sixteen.
"Yeah, I've been driving for nearly a year. So do you wanna a lift?" So he was seventeen?
I shook my head. "No thanks, I'll just get the bus."
"If your sure... Be careful, it's getting dark, and that bus stop's kinda dodgy. Maybe I should wait with you," he said.
"I'll be fine. Besides, it's not that dark yet!"
"Are you sure?"
"If you keep asking me if I'm sure, then by the time I get to the bus stop it will be dark!"
"Okay then," he said apprehensively. "Guys, Isabelle's leaving now!"
There was a chorus of farewells, and a few hugs, then I left the food court.
Finding the bus stop was quite a task, and by the time I got there, it was considerably darker and colder than it had been when I left the mall. Shivering, I stuffed my hands in my pockets and rushed down the steps to the sheltered and graffitied bus stop. I was alone for the first few minutes, then a middle aged woman sat down beside me. She said nothing, and neither did I. I listened to music on my iPod and blocked of the world, the voice of Ronnie Radke reverberating through my skull. The bus pulled up, and I silently stepped aboard and payed my fare. Nothing interesting happened during the bus journey, unless you count the man sitting in the aisle next to me that stank of alcohol throwing up. When we approached the foster home, I made my way to the front of the bus, stepping around the pool of puke. In the dark, the building looked sinister. It looked like it could be haunted by the inhabitants of centuries gone by. I stepped over the threshold, the heat hitting me and making my fingers feel numb.
"Isabelle? Is that you?" called Jayne.
"Yes Jayne," I sighed.
"Oh good. We were wondering if you'd gotten lost, you've been out for ages," she said, coming out into the hall.
"No, I just needed some time to wind down," I said.
She nodded, and made to leave.
"Jayne?" I asked, uncertainly.
"Yes?" she said, spinning around.
"I'm sorry for being rude earlier. I've just had a terrible day, and every little thing got to me," I said.
"That's okay. I have to say I was a little rude myself. And are you okay? You don't seem very... Happy."
I raised my eyebrow. "Happy? Trust me, if you were in my situation you wouldn't be happy," I said grimly.
"Do you want to talk about it? I am a qualified therapist. But qualifications don't mean anything in my opinion. You don't need qualifications to listen to people's problems," she said.
"No thanks, I don't wanna talk about it."
"Okay. Do you wanna have a bath or shower to warm up?" she asked.
"I'm too tired. I'll have one in the morning. But thanks anyway."
I bade her goodnight, and made my way to my room. Feeling too tired to put up my posters, I dumped my bags in the corner, pulled on a pair of purple pyjamas that had been left on the bed. There was a note on top of them, and before I turned out the light, I read it.

Just a small welcome present from us at your new home.
Xo Jayne

I appreciated the thought, and I thought that it was very nice of her, but the words 'your new home' kind of extinguished all the happiness in me. My only home was music, or my dad's house, or my nanny's house. This place isn't home. I live here now, this is my place of residence, but it isn't my home. I'm homeless. I'm a homeless teenager. But then it
occurred to me that I would definitely go home some time. Home to daddy. When he came back. Surely he won't take long. He's been away for about a year, how much longer will he be away?
I felt abandoned. My mother had shunned me away because her love of drugs was stronger than her love for her daughter. My grandmother is dead. My daddy is in the army. Gerard and Mikey have been ripped away from me. I didn't feel like sleeping any more. I wanted to die. I have nothing left in this world. There's nobody here that needs me. And what if my dad comes back with brain damage or something, and he doesn't know who I am? What are the odds of him being the same person when he comes back? What if, when I see him next, he's a cold hearted old man, no longer the goofy father that was eleven years old at heart. What if he comes back, fifty years older? What if he comes back and we won't know each other any more?
'I'm going to end it. Now,' I thought. 'What's the point in living when all you've got is a constant stream of negativity, a flowing river of more than unfortunate events?'
I was shaking, and standing up from the bed, thinking of how I was going to do it, whether there was any rope or pills nearby, when my phone vibrated. I picked it up, and dropped it several times before I managed to flip it open. There was a text from Gerard.
Taking a few shaky deep breaths, I opened it.

We're all fine. And give the foster home a chance. Please? How are you? I mean, I'm not expecting you to be all happy, but are you okay?

I groaned and fell back, smacking my head hard off the wall.

I'm trying to give it a chance.

I deliberately avoided the 'Are you okay?' part, not wanting to tell him that I was feeling severely suicidal.

I plugged my earphones in my ears and turned the volume up full, blasting Demolition Lovers. As the song started, my phone vibrated in my hand.

That's good that your giving it another chance. But you didn't answer my question. Are you okay?

Well, my attempt to avoid that question failed dismally.

No, I'm fucking suicidal, okay?

I typed in a rush, and pressed send, my anger at myself taking over. As soon as I pressed send, I regretted it instantly.
He replied within a few seconds.

No, Naren, please don't! Please don't do anything stupid!

I started to type out my reply.
Stupid? So I'm stupid now?
[**]
But before I could press send, something else flashed up on the screen.
Incoming call from Gerard. I almost didn't answer it, but something inside me made me press accept.

"Hello?" I said.
"Naren, thank god! Please, please just listen to me, hold on, please don't do anything stupid!" he rushed, a hysterical tone in his voice.
"Why shouldn't I? What's the point in carrying on? What is the fucking point in my life, Gerard? It's better if I die, and you should be happy for me if I die, I'll be put out of my misery!"
"That's exactly what I thought. I was fucking suicidal too. And what about all the people who care about you?" he said.
"Like who?" I snapped.
"Like Jason. Mikey told me about him. He says he really likes you, and by the looks of it, you like him too!" he said.
"Oh, I think Jason will be fine without me. He knew me for one fucking day. As if my death will really fucking affect him," I said, though a sharp pang went through my heart as I thought of never seeing him again.
"Your dad!" he cried.
"My dad will come back a different person! War changes people! He'll come back, fucking fifty years older inside. He won't be the same! And what if something happens, and he can't remember me? And if he really fucking cared, he'd have taken five minutes out of his life to write to me!" I sobbed.
"He's in the fucking army, Naren, of course he's not going to be able to write every day!" he protested.
"He used to write every fortnight. I haven't heard from him in six months! What if he's gone? What if he's fucking dead Gerard? You're running out of excuses," I said in between sobs. "There's nobody else here. I'm a waste of space, I don't deserve anything, I don't deserve to know you and Mikey! There are so many fans out there that deserve to know you, and then there's me. I'm just an ugly, fat, suicidal teenage girl. I'm a waste of space!"
"Who the fuck said that your ugly and fat?" he demanded, his voice close to breaking point.
"My mom. Every day she told me that I needed to wear more make up, then she'd deprive me of food because I'm so fat. It's the only good thing she's done for me since I was eight. And it was one of the first things they pointed out about me!"
"You call that a fucking good thing? Your own mother starving you and telling you to put on make up is a fucking good thing? And I'll sort out those little shits that insulted you!"
"Gerard, you don't need to. I don't want to live any more," I said.
"Me," he whispered. He was crying now, I could hear him. "I care. If you die, I'd be more than broken hearted. It would make me suicidal. I'd be the one at your funeral, the one who wouldn't be able to cope. I'd be the one that would have to be taken out of the church, because no one would be able to hear over me. And if I committed suicide, what would happen then? My daughter wouldn't have a father. My Chemical Romance would either break up or get a new singer. And my family would be torn apart. Mikey wouldn't be the same. I was suicidal once too, and the thing that saved me was our fans. You saved me, so why won't you let me do the same for you?"
"I want to die, Gerard. Help me," I whispered.
We were both sobbing uncontrollably now.
"I'm coming to see you, I'm going to help you, Naren. Wait for me, I'll be there soon," he eventually said.
"You don't need to waste your time coming to see me," I said.
"I'm coming Naren, I'll be there soon. We love you." And with that, he hung up.
I quickly dressed in my black jeans and hoodie, made my bed and sank down onto it. I buried my face in my pillow, and let the tears flow freely, making no attempt to stop them.

What I craved was blood. To see blood pour from my arm, to cut through a vein, and to bleed until I died. I wanted to cut through my wrist, and watch the blood fall, dripping over these white bed sheets and walls and staining them scarlet, until I died. I wanted blood. I wanted to feel the pain of cutting my wrist. I wanted to feel hot, sticky blood trickling down my arm. I wanted to collapse in a heap on the floor, to fall asleep there, and never wake up.
Blood.
Blood.
Blood.

I don't know how long these morbid thoughts were dancing through my head. All I know is that what brought me back from my vampire like fantasies was a knock at the door.
"It's open," I said, my voice muffled, as my head was still buried in my pillow.
There was a series of footsteps, and they stopped beside me.
"I'm here," said Gerard.
I rolled over on the bed to make room for him to sit down.
"You can sit down," I said miserably.
The bed springs creaked and the mattress sank as he sat.
"Are you gonna look at me?" he asked quietly.
Ever so slowly, I sat up and faced him, but didn't make eye contact.
He shifted closer to me, and wrapped his arms around me in a tight hug. I leaned into him, breathing in the strong smell of coffee. He rocked me back and forward, saying nothing. Actions speak louder than words.
"Your beautiful, Naren," he whispered.
"Your lying," I replied.
"I'm not, you're so beautiful, Lindsey actually said to me that her first thought she had about you was that you were really pretty. And you had no make up on, and your hair was wet," he said, smiling as he mentioned Lindsey. "And no arguments," he said, as I opened my mouth to protest.
"I don't want to live Gerard. If I can't die then I want to forget everything. But that's impossible. I want to kill myself," I whispered into his chest. As I said that, his body went rigid, and he stopped rocking me back and forward. He pulled out the hug and held me at arms length.
"You need to stop this. If you can't do it for yourself, do it for me. I'm worried about you," he said, looking straight into my eyes. His eyes were so pretty and hazel, and I found it hard to look away.
"I'm never going to be happy Gerard," I mumbled.
"You only think that. You'll never be able to forget your mom, growing up with things like that make them stick. Maybe you'll never be the happiest person on earth, but you won't always be stuck in depression like this. And I don't think you're just sad. You're depressed, and if we took you to a doctor to be diagnosed, they'd say the same. But there was a time, when I was depressed. I was an alcoholic. I was addicted to drugs. I felt like I needed it to be me. And I'm sure you know all about it. I'm not proud of the drugs and drink. It's the thing I hate the most about myself. That was how I tried to escape from depression. You... You have a different approach. You cut and burn yourself, don't you? What I did, what you're doing, they're both forms of self harm. Both are addictions. Both can be given up. I know how you feel. Except your not gonna wake up with hangovers every single day. And keep it that way. Never. Ever. Do drugs. Ever. You hear me?"
I nodded. "I saw what they did to you. And what they did to my mom. I never wanna do drugs."
"How would you feel about seeing a therapist?" he asked.
"I don't want to see a therapist. All they do is sit there with their fancy clipboards and write down what you say," I answered.
"Fair enough. But you need someone to talk to. So if you don't want to go into therapy, then you need someone else. Like me, or Mikey. Okay?"
"Okay," I yawned.
"You should sleep. And anyway, you'll feel better in the morning," he whispered.
"I can't sleep, not now!" I protested.
"Why?" he asked.
"Because then you'll leave me so I can get to sleep, and then I'll start over thinking things, and then I'll feel horrible again," I said in between yawns.
"I'll stay here. But I can't stay all night. Lindsey'll kill me if I leave her to go to Bandit when she wakes up in the night," he chuckled fondly.
"Well if I'm going to sleep then I'll need to get changed," I said.
"I'll wait outside for you to change then." He stepped outside, shutting the door behind him.
I hastily changed into my pyjamas, then opened the door for him to come back in. I crawled into bed, under the covers. Gerard took his shoes off and sat beside me, leaning against the head of the bed and stretching his legs out in front of him. I snuggled into him, finding comfort.
"Gee?" I asked.
"Yeah?" he replied, grinning at my use of the nickname,
"Thanks," I said.
"Any time."
There was silence for a while, and I found myself feeling drowsy, struggling to keep my eyes open. Gerard noticed me fighting against sleep. His voice sounded quietly through the room. He was singing The World is Ugly. To me.
"The world is ugly,
But you're beautiful to me," he sang, stroking my hair.
That was the last thing my brain registered before I fell asleep.