FicWad

"Give me that" He hissed from behind me, aiming to grab the bottle from my loving hands. Yet again, my heart was in desperate need of a restart as I recovered from being startled.

"Hey!" I exclaimed as the bottle was taken away from me. He pulled up another lawnchair and sat beside me. "What, you don't want me to comply anymore?"

"If I'm gonna have to bear your drunken ass in my house, I'd better get drunk myself as well" he shrugged

"But you're the one driving us back to the city" I pointed out

"I think I might just stay for the night"

I glared him
"Mikey won't drive the van, he's been telling me that since the dawn of earth"

"I know"

"Then who's driving?" I demanded, getting a little frustrated. "I can't drive for shit!"

"Then I'm guessing we will all stay the night" The sickly sweet smile wasn't really a smile, but a sign of mischievous triumph.

"I'm not staying" I declared and tried to grab the bottle right back from his grasp before he'd actually drink too much to be driving tonight. Oh he was driving, as long as I had my fucking say with him.

I hopped up and stood infront of him, holding the bottle in both of my hands while trying to unclasp his cold, boney fingers off it. He yanked the bottle, and therefore me, and I tripped forward ending up half on his lap, but I wouldn't let go. He was gonna drive.

"Gerard" I whined "let go"

He threw a careless kick that just so happened to land on my ankle
"Fuck! Stop that!" I screamed.

"Let go" he shrugged. Why did it seem that I was struggling for my life here, throwing in all the force I had in me, and he was just sitting there looking at me like I was a kid trying to wrestle freaking Rocky for a lollipop?

He yanked again, this time with force and losing my grip, I somehow managed to fall onto his lap in a way that left my face much too close a distant from his crotch. I jumped up fast enough to see his half terrified, half amused face.

"Fine" I said taking a deep breath. I made a show out of brushing and straightening my clothes. "Have it your way. Let's get wasted and then drive the car. Or even better, let's get shitfaced and I'll walk back and when some psycho killer guy decided to rob, rape and kill me, you'll be forever responsible for that" I sniffed.

"I'd be honored" he smiled and gulped down almost half of what what left in the bottle, after which he finally handed it to me.

"Cheers" I muttered sourly and repeated what he did.

After the bottle and a pack of cigarettes were consumed on the deck, we realized that we would have to keep this from Mikey and Donna.
Donna was a piece of cake according to Gerard, but Mikeyboy had a fucking built-in radar for all things drunk. He'd notice right away, and propably tell on us, too. Why oh why did I get myself in a situation I haven't been in since my teen years? Hiding in someone's basement, trying not to appear drunk, scared to fucking death that a parent will catch me. Truthfully, I couldn't come up with anything worse than Donna finding out I got shitfaced in her house while she was gone. I'd never be able to look her in the eye again.

We sat on the top stairs, too close to each other for anyone's liking, listening behind the closed door. Gerard hiccuped every five seconds which was really starting to annoy the heck out of me.

A vague sound from somewhere out front told us that they were back.
I made a shushing gesture just before that was a quiet knock on the door.

"Is it locked?" I mouthed in horror
Gerard nodded his head briefly.

"Yeah?" He called out

"Are you guys down there?" it was Mikes.

"Uhm.. Yeah?"

"Can I come down?"

"Uhm... No?"

I punched Gerard in the ribs, stupid motherfucker couldn't act normal for shit.

"Okay" Mikey replied slowly "Why the fuck not?"

"Michael, watch your language!" I heard Donna yell from somewhere farther away, and stiffled a giggle.

"Sorry Ma"

"We're... doing stuff" Gerard explained unsurely. I punched him again. Doing stuff? What the fuck?

"Such as..?" It almost sounded like Mikey was getting worried. Maybe he was thinking about what the odds were that we'd have actually started a knive fight, in which I would've sucked due to my poor coordination and lost, and that Gerard was currently chopping off my body in order to get it to fit under the floor boards.

"Since when do you guys even get along?" Mikey blurted, obviously exasperated.

"We get along fine" Gerard yelped as I punched him the third time.

It's true what they say about the third time being the charm, only it weren't always good things that happened afterwards. Gerard, who had been leaning on the wall, seemed to have lost his balance somehow and even though I didn't raise a finger to help him, he managed to get a grip on my shirt to not trip and fall down the stairs.

It wasn't much help - it only ended in my button-up shirt getting very swiftly and unpractically unbuttoned with a loud ripping sound. My eyes bulged out of my skull.

Gerard seemed to have regained his balance but lost a couple brainsells as he stayed frozen on place with a shocked expression on his features. Was he expecting a slap?
I recovered after a moment, pulling and tugging on my shirt to cover my nearly bare chest and swiftly moved to the basement area to try and find a shirt I could loan. The thought about wearing this guy's shirt made me want to throw up but I didn't have a lot of options here.

"Just tell him" I groaned.

"He'll get so pissed. And Ma, too"

"We're not teenagers. We're adults. Maybe we should consider acting like ones"

"Oh look who's all grown up now. So mature and smart when you can't even stand straight"

"Can too" I scowled "Mikey!" I yelled up from the cellar Gerard called a room. "Don't get all upset now but we kinda had a little something to drink and I think you need to drive the van to get us the hell out of here!"

"You have got to be kidding me" I heard a muffled reply from upstairs. Why did everyone keep saying that to me? I wasn't kidding anyone.
Gerard had his face buried in his palms.

"Well you guys can stay there for all I care. I'm not driving the van and I'm not sharing the bed, Em" He finally said with a tone that stern that I knew there was no room for negotiation.

I turned to look at Gerard.
"Why thank you. Now I'm gonna have to either walk or sleep with you. Both will most likely lead to a slow, painful death"

"You're not crashing here" He shook his head "And I'm not sleeping with a slut"

"I think that ship has sailed, moron" I spat eyeing the drawer into which he'd hurriedly tucked the god awful underwear.

I opened a randomnly chosen drawer and found a plain black t-shirt that smelled clean enough. Gerard slumped down the stairs to the cabinet and returned with another bottle.

"Whiskey?-" I asked in surprise "-didn't take you for a whiskey kinda guy"

"I'm an alcohol kinda guy" He clarified and cracked open the bottle.

"I guess we're stuck here" I pointed out the obvious. I couldn't drive, he couldn't drive, Mikes wouldn't drive.. And leaving the room would be a social suicide, atleast for me, I'd be losing all my credibility in Donna's eyes if she saw me in this condition. Gerard would propably be yelled at and banned from the house for a while.

"You can sleep on the floor" was his blunt answer.

"I'm your fucking guest" I reminded him again "You're not taking care of me at all"

"Take care of your fucking self" He spat angrily

"What exatly is your problem, Gerard? I never did a single thing to offend you!"

I sat on the edge of his bed. It looked like it hadn't been slept in in ages. I pictured a teenage Gerard living in this room, sleeping in that bed and I shuddered. Not that he wasn't goodlooking, but the guy still rubbed me the wrong way.

"Don't you think I know what you're like? Everybody knows, Em. You just don't see it. I don't know how you've managed to delude yourself into thinking people actually like you, cause they fucking don't. I used to think it wasn't all true cause I thought of you as Nick's girlfriend, but slowly your reputation got ahead of you. That night at the party a couple days ago, you were all over that short guy even though you most likely knew that there were friends of Nick's present. You didn't care. After that, when you had broke up with him, he called me up and told me all about the bitch you are. He's one of my best friends and you... You're a fucking walking disease"

I saw no warmth in his gaze as he stared at me in the eye. What a bunch of bullshit, I thought out of habit. I wasn't that bad - in fact, I thought I was pretty nice. Why else would I have such awesome friends on my side such as Frank and Grace, and Mikey most of the time?

"Yet here you are, locked up with me in a basement, with a bottle of whiskey and a bed to share. Now there's a story for you to tell, to contribute to all the bullshit people are talking about me, aye?" I spoke through gritted teeth.

"If I ever make it out alive" He muttered.

"If I had the option to put you out, I would've done it days ago. But unfortunately you're Mikey's brother and I don't want to take the risk of him getting all upset"



He dug through his pockets for an awkward while, and came up with a strange looking bottle. He studied it for a moment, opened the cap and poured out a couple small, round items. Pills.

"Looks like you're really a whole lot better than me" I pointed out quietly.

"Shut up" He came to sit beside me on the bed, offering me one.

"Are you going to poison me or what? Hoping for a heart attack? I ain't taking no pill from you" I shook my head for good measure.

"I'm taking one. Take one if you like." He shrugged and threw the white object into his mouth, forcing it down with large gulps from the bottle.

I studied his face for a long while. I couldn't keep up with his mood swings, one moment he was telling me how bad of a person I was, the next he's sitting right beside me offering me alcohol and pills, all the resentment and aggression momentarilly gone.

"Are you bipolar?" I asked seriously.

He let out a quiet laugh that shook the mattress under me.
"I've got my problems" he amended "but that particular issue ain't one of them"

"What are your problems, then?" I asked softly.

He turned his face to look at me. There was some sort of untouchable sadness in his hazely eyes as he gazed into mine, but he didn't speak. After a moment, he turned away.

"Life" he finally spoke. Such an enlightening answer. That cleared it up for sure.

"Life is easy. It's just a day after another until the day when your days are over" I explained, my drunk state of mind not doing justice to my rather well-put philosophy.

"Living is the hardest part" He whispered back.

I scared myself to death by feeling a strong urge to stroke his hair, his cheek, and make him see that he got it all wrong.
I had to seriously remind myself of the fact that I was supposed to be disliking this guy.
I didn't know what to say or do anymore, so I shrugged it off and left him sitting there and climbed into the bed.

"I'm not sleeping on the floor" I announced "I'm a lady, so when you join me in this narrow bed, please keep your distance" I added drunkenly.

I passed out quickly, the last thing seen was his hunched back as he kept sitting there near my feet.
I was much more comfortable with calling him names, and even hearing him explain to me exactly how awful human being I was, than this.
His sudden severeness and sadness seemed intimate and I felt more like an intruder than I had all night.
I slept restlessly, and dreamt of my own bed.