Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Classified: Need Of Help
When he was told he could leave, Frankie was relieved -- counselling had been intense. It had just been all questions, questions, questions. Thought-provoking questions at that. He'd never dug that deep before.
When he reached the caftéria for the second time that day, the first thing he noticed other than the usual sweeping sense of depression that hung about like a corpse was that Gerard wasn't in there.
Strange thoughts began to envelope him when he thought of where Gerard might be. He wondered whether Gerard had been kidnapped by medics in disguise and that they'd killed him brutally because of his obsession with numbers and dumped his body in a furnace and burnt it as though he were a mass of garbage disposal -- or whether he'd run away, without telling poor Frank.
However, the thoughts put him to shame when he saw Gerard walk straight into the cafetéria, puffy-eyed and tear-stained. It almost made Frankie blush to be thinking of those things happening to poor Gerard, noticing his only friend here in distress.
"Are you okay?" Frankie asked, concerned for the blonde in front of him.
Gerard looked straight into Frank's eyes.
"No. No, Frank, I'm not okay." Gerard's face was expressionless.
"Do you... do you want a hug?" Frank was slightly worried, and tried treading the water out by pulling Gerard into a small hug, which Gerard rejected.
"Don't touch me!!" Gerard exclaimed, shocked and alarmed at the sudden contact. Frank was out to get him -- he knew it! He hadn't even known the guy 24 hours and already he'd tried to touch him!
'Gerard, well done. You're doing well. WE do not need anyone, especially not that Frank boy. He's bad news, and he's gonna get you. He wants to kill you...'
Suddenly, Gerard felt himself running as fast as he could towards his beloved sqaure room. He couldn't face art therapy today. He'd need to spend the entire day alone there to get over what just happened.
Frank stood alone, by the door of the cafetéria. He felt very out of place. His only friend had just freaked out because he'd tried to hug him -- wasn't that what friends did?
Dismissing it, Frank noticed for the first time all day that he was actually hungry, so he got a salad. After his salad, he got up and left to go and find Gerard -- to see if he was okay, of course.
Upon finding a smashed window on his way back to his room, Gerard picked up one of the peices and studied it with interest. It was strange, intriguing and nauseating to think that something so sparkly and beautiful to the eye could be so deadly, cruel and teasing to the skin.
With the long, triangular peice of wonder still clasped loosely in his palm, Gerard carried on running back to the Hell between his four walls.
When he got there, the first thing he did was violently rip the white duvet off of his bed and throw it down in the corner. Following suit, he sat in the corner and started to cry. He had no idea why he was crying, but whatever it was, it was nasty and whoever had done this horrible thing to him must surely pay.
Then he remembered -- it was Jeremy who had done this. He suddenly remembered why he was here, why his life was so hard and why he'd rejected one small, comforting hug with Frank. It was Jeremy's fault he was in this God awful place, with walls bound to distraught and suffering. It was Jeremy who had made poor Gerard's life a living Hell. And the worst thing was that it was all in his head, so no-one else could experience his thoughts and feelings.
Sobs racked away at Gerard's body, whilst tears fell onto the duvet he sat on. He took a shaking, fearful breath in for what he was about to do next.
Slowly, and then more quickly, Gerard forced bright red lines across his wrists with the peice of glass in his hand. It didn't hurt. In fact, he rather enjoyed watching red sparks of delight fly around the duvet, and he enjoyed the high it gave him.
What he was doing didn't make him feel fucked up, yet it didn't make him feel normal. It just gave Gerard a euphoric high that he'd never been able to experience before other than when he was on cocaine, and taken alot of it. Little red rivers began to swamp on the duvet, and with one last sobbing smile, Gerard passed out in a pool of his own blood.
When he reached the caftéria for the second time that day, the first thing he noticed other than the usual sweeping sense of depression that hung about like a corpse was that Gerard wasn't in there.
Strange thoughts began to envelope him when he thought of where Gerard might be. He wondered whether Gerard had been kidnapped by medics in disguise and that they'd killed him brutally because of his obsession with numbers and dumped his body in a furnace and burnt it as though he were a mass of garbage disposal -- or whether he'd run away, without telling poor Frank.
However, the thoughts put him to shame when he saw Gerard walk straight into the cafetéria, puffy-eyed and tear-stained. It almost made Frankie blush to be thinking of those things happening to poor Gerard, noticing his only friend here in distress.
"Are you okay?" Frankie asked, concerned for the blonde in front of him.
Gerard looked straight into Frank's eyes.
"No. No, Frank, I'm not okay." Gerard's face was expressionless.
"Do you... do you want a hug?" Frank was slightly worried, and tried treading the water out by pulling Gerard into a small hug, which Gerard rejected.
"Don't touch me!!" Gerard exclaimed, shocked and alarmed at the sudden contact. Frank was out to get him -- he knew it! He hadn't even known the guy 24 hours and already he'd tried to touch him!
'Gerard, well done. You're doing well. WE do not need anyone, especially not that Frank boy. He's bad news, and he's gonna get you. He wants to kill you...'
Suddenly, Gerard felt himself running as fast as he could towards his beloved sqaure room. He couldn't face art therapy today. He'd need to spend the entire day alone there to get over what just happened.
Frank stood alone, by the door of the cafetéria. He felt very out of place. His only friend had just freaked out because he'd tried to hug him -- wasn't that what friends did?
Dismissing it, Frank noticed for the first time all day that he was actually hungry, so he got a salad. After his salad, he got up and left to go and find Gerard -- to see if he was okay, of course.
Upon finding a smashed window on his way back to his room, Gerard picked up one of the peices and studied it with interest. It was strange, intriguing and nauseating to think that something so sparkly and beautiful to the eye could be so deadly, cruel and teasing to the skin.
With the long, triangular peice of wonder still clasped loosely in his palm, Gerard carried on running back to the Hell between his four walls.
When he got there, the first thing he did was violently rip the white duvet off of his bed and throw it down in the corner. Following suit, he sat in the corner and started to cry. He had no idea why he was crying, but whatever it was, it was nasty and whoever had done this horrible thing to him must surely pay.
Then he remembered -- it was Jeremy who had done this. He suddenly remembered why he was here, why his life was so hard and why he'd rejected one small, comforting hug with Frank. It was Jeremy's fault he was in this God awful place, with walls bound to distraught and suffering. It was Jeremy who had made poor Gerard's life a living Hell. And the worst thing was that it was all in his head, so no-one else could experience his thoughts and feelings.
Sobs racked away at Gerard's body, whilst tears fell onto the duvet he sat on. He took a shaking, fearful breath in for what he was about to do next.
Slowly, and then more quickly, Gerard forced bright red lines across his wrists with the peice of glass in his hand. It didn't hurt. In fact, he rather enjoyed watching red sparks of delight fly around the duvet, and he enjoyed the high it gave him.
What he was doing didn't make him feel fucked up, yet it didn't make him feel normal. It just gave Gerard a euphoric high that he'd never been able to experience before other than when he was on cocaine, and taken alot of it. Little red rivers began to swamp on the duvet, and with one last sobbing smile, Gerard passed out in a pool of his own blood.
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