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Chapter 9 – Toro, the Bull

Ray’s arm slowly relaxed the noose around Bert’s neck. He was far from happy with the guy, but he figured what Gerard had done was punishment enough. Gently, he gave the blue-eyed man a pat on the back, pushing him away to Quinn. The next task on his mind was to smack Gerard right across the face for being such an asshole. However, it was rather difficult with Frank’s head in the way. With rough motions, he unlatched his guitarist buddy off Gerard. Frank panted out the little amount of air left in his lungs before the teardrop factory resumed their work. He felt so fucking useless, but it was nice to see that Bert felt the same way. Gerard apparently found the whole thing funny and threw his head back, exploding into a fit of uncontrollable laughter. Ray’s eyes narrowed, anger racing inside him. He wouldn’t have been surprised of steam came out of his nose. His strong hands gripped themselves in a tight fist. As calmly as the situation begged for, he asked if he could be alone with Gerard. Frank rushed out without a word, while Bert had something to say.

He leaned forward, long black hair falling into Gerard’s face, and being sure to snarl, “I fucking hate you.”

Gerard giggled and waved as the man gruffly walked out, Quinn trailing behind with ineffective words of comfort. Ray refrained from strangling a certain friend of his. He had to try extra hard when Gerard turned his face to him, wearing an unnecessary smirk. He scowled, adding in extra filth to his look. Gerard pretended to have a sophisticated, expectant expression on his face, just for the amusement. His mouth spilled a giggle when Ray’s face suddenly clouded over with concern instead of anger. Moooooood swings!

“Gerard,” Ray’s tone sharpened into a motherlike voice, “This isn’t funny. I think you really need some help.”

“Nah, thanks Ray. I’m doin’ fine.” Gerard smiled sweetly, trying to look as un-high as possible.

The afro shook, “No, you’re really not. I found out about your drugs, Gerard. Look, man, if this was an addiction like...playing video games, I wouldn’t be all up in your case about it. But this is serious. You could die. I’m gonna have to tell Mikey about this unless you genuinely try to stop.”

All sense of humor was drained out of Gerard’s body. He wondered for a moment why the drugs had worn out all of a sudden. Then, he realized this was part of it. The part of it that made him want to grip his hands around Ray’s throat and squeeze until the man’s internal organs poured out through his mouth. Angrily, he flicked his dark hair out of his face to stare at Ray directly.

“First off, drugs are a thousand times better than video games will ever be. Second of all, I honestly don’t give a fuck if I do die because of this. You know why? Because I’m already feeling crappy and depressed. Dying would be a whole lot better than living like that. Don’t give me the shit about the fans being miserable without me. The band doesn’t need me to save lives. Heck, you guys would do a whole lot better without a suicidal lead singer, okay? And finally, if you tell Mikey, I’m gonna go buy a chainsaw from Wal-Mart and personally chop your head off. And that’s not an empty threat, Toro.” It really wasn’t in Gerard’s mind.

Ray pursed his lips into a thin line, unsure of what to say next. He considered going the nice way; try to stuff some sense into that thick skull of Gerard’s. But he wondered if a more successful method would be through violence...because God, it was just so tempting to bring his hand up and ram it into Gerard’s face. Of course, he wouldn’t actually dare to do something like that, especially not with people around. He knew exactly what Gerard could do if he became angry. He sighed and looked towards the ceiling, hoping an answer would fall right into his face.

Finally, his gaze returned to Gerard, “Well, Gerard, I’m not just going to stand here and watch you kill yourself. I’m sorry but Mikey has gotta know. You’ll thank me for this later.” he slowly turned around.

Fury from Gerard’s head moved to his impulses. He felt hot blood rush to his ears, blocking out almost all sound. His heartbeat pounded erratically, he could hear it pulsing against his neck. Letting out an unpleasant growl, he grabbed Ray by the shoulders and spun him around. Uneven breathing poured in and out of his lungs as he kicked the other man in the shin. He felt no mercy when he saw Ray stumble backwards, obviously taken by surprise. He lurched forward and grabbed the man’s neck, just like he wanted to. Gerard wore a wild expression as he watched red rush to the guitarist’s face. Just one hard squeeze and his all problems would be gone, in the dust. But no, it was more fun to let Ray live. He swung his fist into Ray’s stomach, satisfied when the other man fell down, groaning. This was far from enough for him. He wanted to see blood, Ray’s blood spewing out onto the floor. He brought his foot up from the ground, stepping slightly on Ray’s reddened cheek. Without further ado, he kicked, using as much lower body strength as he had. His friend was too weak to even scream. Well, that just ruined everything! Gerard pulled Ray up by the collar and then moved his hand to the afro; the precious, brown afro. He tugged on it. Ray screamed quite loudly that time.

People had now begun to notice the fight in the middle of the bar. The oblivious idiots simply stood there, too frightened to get involved. One particularly brave man hurried to assist Ray by attempting to yank Gerard away. He was pushed back with so much force that he collapsed, face first. The man sat up with a moan, rubbing his nose. He stared through cracked glasses at Gerard attacking Ray. The sight was unbearable. With determination, he pulled himself up. He walked as best as he could to Gerard’s side.

He grabbed the enraged man by the shoulders, trying once again to break up the fight, “Gerard, what the hell are you doing? Let him go! Stop it! Stop hitting him! Just stop!”

Gerard froze in mid-punch. He released his grip on Ray’s shirt, dropping him instantly. Both hands fell to his sides as he turned around with closed eyes. He recognized the voice. He’d grown up hearing it, hating it at some points, but overall thankful for its existence. Mikey. His eyes flickered open to gaze at his worried little brother.

Mikey’s eyebrows were furrowed, as tense as his frowning mouth, “Get the fuck away from Ray. Get out of here....we’ll talk about this later.”

Gerard wordlessly obeyed and took tiny glances over his shoulder while weaving his way out of the already dispersing crowd. He had a feeling the incident would be in all the newspapers by tomorrow morning. Honestly, though, he couldn’t have cared less. He knew he deserved whatever was coming for him. Running fingers through his sweaty hair, he walked into the lobby. He hoped for some sort of a distraction from what had just happened. The scene which both grabbed his attention and alarmed him immediately was that of Bert and Frank, sitting on opposing chairs and talking. They weren’t arguing, it was obvious by their faces. Gerard wondered if hallucinations were possibly a side effect of crystal meth. He approached the pair at a cautious pace. His heartbeat sped up when he heard his name being mentioned. Unfortunately, he couldn’t eavesdrop on the remainder of the conversation because the two men immediately stopped talking upon noting his precesnse. They stared up at him with two contrastingly colored eyes.

He grinned widely, sitting down next to Frank, “Hey, are you guys actually having a conversation without trying to kill each other?”

Frank exchanged a look with Bert before replying in a cold tone, “It’s funny, I think he’s okay as long as you’re not around.”

The words were out of place coming out of Frank’s mouth. It was as if Bert had brainwashed him somehow in the past few minutes. Gerard was amused by this. He dared to laugh slightly. He was extremely surprised when Frank threw him a dirty look. The guitarist stood up in a gruff motion. Bert did too. Both guys wanted to be as far away from Gerard as possibly. Bert was able to get his way quicker than he wanted to. He was genuinely hurt when Gerard grabbed Frank’s arm instead of his. His bearded jaw dropped and he just stood there, staring at Gerard and Frank again. He defied the urge to cry. He wasn’t the type of person who cried a lot. He wasn’t a fucking weakling. Apparently, Gerard didn’t like that.

Frank was pulled into Gerard’s arms with one simple jerk of his hand. Gerard knew that most people in the lobby would be staring at this scene, but he didn’t give a shit. The crystal in his blood didn’t block out the fact that he’d fucked up so badly that there was no solution. In fact, he was pretty sure the drug was wearing off and his usual depression was returning. He wished he’d taken more than just a few small sniffs of that sweet smoke. Now, though, he couldn’t dwell on the past. He had a best friend to win back.

“Frank,” he swallowed, “I’m really sorry. I don’t know what I...well, I do, but I really didn’t mean to do that to you. I’m so sorry. It was just...” he paused nervously, fully aware of Bert’s gaze, “I meant what I said, Frank. Honest to God, I did. I like you a lot. I really, really do.”

Frank’s honey coated eyes held a layer of sadness, “How am I supposed to believe that? How am I supposed to believe anything you say anymore?”

Gerard leaned in close, disappointed when Frank turned his face away, “You can believe me. I mean this...just forgive me. Please.”

Frank’s body involuntarily became hot, yet he tried to remain firm, “I tried.” When Gerard’s bottom lip jutted out, he sighed, “All right, Gee...if you can promise me that you’ll quit doing drugs. And can you mean it?”

Gerard’s heart and the rest of his body quickly had a rock-paper-scissors match. His mind begged for drugs; it knew that his body wouldn’t be able to take on the world otherwise. His mind knew what was best for his heart. However, the irritating thought of Frank kept invading the common sense which was laid out for him so clearly. His heart rejoiced until the rest of his body requested a “best 2 out of 3.” If Frank never forgave him, he knew his life would be over. He would have lost all of his best friends—except maybe Bob, but he’d leave too, once he figured out what was going on. His fans would find out and grow to loathe his face, just like he always had. Lastly, he’d be giving into the band name; My Chemical Romance. His whole world would end with a crash.

Which was why he choked out the word, “N-no...” because he wanted to die. His body and his heart were dumbstruck; they'd both just lost.

Silently, Frank stabbed Gerard in the heart with a dismayed look. He broke away from the taller man and took small steps away, staring at the floor all the way to the elevator.

Gerard now looked to Bert, guilty expression masking his face. Another surprise greeted him; Bert was crying, quite uncontrollably too. He opened his mouth to mutter an apology, but the word wouldn’t come out. The other man hurriedly hid his face and started to walk away from Gerard. Gerard grabbed him quickly, and clutched on like his life depended on it. And it kind of did.

Bert snatched his arm away roughly, “Lemme go, you fucking asshole! I hate you! I hate you so fucking much!”

This time, Gerard didn’t laugh. Because he realized that Bert seriously meant it. He also realized he had now turned almost every single person he loved against himself. Now he only had to turn a gun against himself and he'd finally be in bliss.

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Gosh yeah, the Frerard's really gonna take a while...