I'm Not Okay Without You

Chapter 28
Frank’s POV

After what seemed like years Gerard’s house came into view. I parked hastily, accidentally going over a curb. That didn’t matter to me at the time, though. Sprinting up to the door, I began pounding on it as hard as I could.
‘Gerard can hear that, I know he can,’ I thought, still desperately trying to break the door down with only my bare hands. He still wasn’t opening the door, though. My hand made contact with the wood, but this time I didn’t lift it to hit the door again. I leaned against it, feeling like I was going to cry.
“Gerard,” I said to the door. “Gerard please open up. I know you don’t want me to see you but please open the door anyway,” I begged him, though I had no idea if he was on the other side of the door or not. I heard the sound of something being unlocked and the door slowly began to open. Gerard put his head through the door. He was grinning madly, a slightly insane glint in his eyes.
“Hi Frank,” he said nonchalantly.
“Gerard let me in,” I begged, “please.”
“I think you should leave and,” he cut off slightly, beginning to laugh. “Sorry. Go back to Mikey’s.”
“Gerard…” I said carefully, “just let me in.”
“Fine…” he said, signing and looking off to the side. Then he gave me a wicked look out of the corner of his eye along with a grin. “I can’t resist you, can I?” he asked, giggling uncontrollably. I stepped inside the house, noticing he had a beer in one hand.
“Gerard, give me the beer,” I said, half commanding and half pleading.
“Frank I’m fine,” he said stubbornly, though he was still laughing and slurring.
“No you’re not. I know you,” I reminded him. “Give me it,” I commanded.
“Fuck off, Frank!” he yelled suddenly, making me step away from him in fear at the sudden outburst.
“Gerard!” I screamed back, almost sternly.
“Fine, Frank, here,” he yelled, throwing the beer at me. It missed my head by mere centimeters and hit the wall behind me, making a metallic “chink” sound. Gerard then ran away from me and into his bathroom, locking the door. I could hear him crying a little as I reached the door before I heard an unmistakable snuffing sound. He wouldn’t… he couldn’t be…
Gerard opened the door and began walking out, straight into me. Before I knew what I was doing I was hugging him. He struggled against my grip, trying to get away. His hands closed around my arms, trying to tug them away from him and make me loose my grip, but I held on. As a second attempt, he began twisting and pushing me away. Finally, he stopped fighting me and hugged back. I knew he needed this subconsciously.
After a while I loosened my grip and grabbed Gerard’s hand, walking him into his bedroom and laying him on the bed.
“Frank… Please… just go… please,” he said, tears staining his cheeks.
“Gerard I can’t leave you like this,” I protested softly.
“I did this to myself and I can take care of myself,” he argued.
I looked at him with sad eyes for a moment before asking a question that had been bugging me. “Gerard… What did you take?”
“Nothing,” he said childishly. “Why?”
“I fucking know you,” I practically screamed at him. Did he take me for a dunce? He obviously took something! “Just fucking tell me!”
“Fine,” he consented. “Coke and weed.”
“Is that it?” I asked cautiously. The bad thing about him being high is you can’t tell when he’s telling a lying.
“Yeah,” he said, closing his eyes.
“Are you sure?” I asked. He didn’t respond though. “Gerard?” I sighed; he must’ve passed out. I knew he hated sleeping in his clothes—It made him a total bitch in the morning—so I carefully pulled off his shirt and pants, leaving him in his boxers. Then I pulled the covers over him and kissed his forehead. He may be stubborn, but he sure as hell is cute when he’s sleeping, even if he is passed out.
‘Might as well clean the place up a bit,’ I figured, beginning to clean the house. I started in the bedroom, then the living room, and finally the bathroom. I found a needle in the bathroom. Growling something about Gerard being a liar, I noticed there was liquid on the end.
‘Could be water,’ I convinced myself. Just to make sure, I wiped the excess liquid onto my finger then put it in my mouth. Heroine my brain automatically told me. Having had drug problems, I could tell what certain drugs were. I ignored it and continued cleaning. When I was done I went back to Gerard’s room. Upon entering I noticed he was awake.
“How you feeling?” I asked, a slight bite in my voice.
“Um… okay, I guess,” he replied.
“Yeah,” I said in a bored tone. “Well, can you explain something to me?” I asked in the sweetest voice I had.
“Sure,” he said, slight fear flashing in his eyes.
“Can you explain to me which drug uses a needle?” I asked politely through gritted teeth.
“What are you talking about?” he responded, trying to make his features bewildered.
“Gerard stop fucking lying to me,” I said, not bothering to conceal the anger now. “You did more than weed and coke, didn’t you?” I asked. When he gave no response I continued. “Like heroine?” I asked, trying to jog his memory out of the fake stupor it was in.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
“And you couldn’t even tell me about your grandma!” I added, seething with rage. “I’m your fucking boyfriend,” I reminded him. “Couldn’t you have told me?”
“You wouldn’t understand how much she means to me,” he protested.
“So?!” I yelled. “I could still help you deal with it! I love you, Gerard, but you need to start telling me the fucking truth!”
“Frank…” I wasn’t going to let him interrupt me.
“Gee let me finish,” I said. “What if something happened last night? What if you died? You know what would have happened? Your brother… he probably would have died, too.” I was guilt-tripping him now.
“Frank—“ he said, slightly louder than before.
“I’m glad I cleaned your fucking bathroom and found that fucking needle. Gerard, just fucking tell me what’s going through your fucking head to do something so stu—“
“FRANK!” he screamed, cutting me off.
“What?” I asked, shaking with rage.
“Stop fucking yelling at me! I know I did fucking wrong but you can’t help me all the time!” That was like a slap in the face.
“Gerard,” I started.
“No,” he yelled, cutting me off again. “Shut up, Frank. You’re going to listen to me. I love you, I do, but I did what I did to get rid of the pain.” Like I didn’t already know that. I was about to say ‘quite a fucking way to do it, dip-shit,’ but he continued talking. “I won’t do it again… and I’ll throw away the stuff so you know I won’t,” he added. I wanted to yell at him. I wanted to tell him off and make him feel bad. I wanted him to hurt so bad he’d never keep anything from me ever again. But I consented, knowing he’d just go back to drinking soon anyway; it would be better to have him in the here and now.
“Okay,” I whispered. He stood up and picked up his coat, pulling out the weed, coke, and heroine. I followed him as he went into the bathroom, dropping the stuff in the toilet and flushing it.
“There,” he said, obviously still hurt and angry. “You happy?”
“Yes,” I answered, hugging him tightly. This was good; it was a step toward recovery. But… if I know Gerard, he’s about to take two steps back. That didn’t matter in the moment, though. All that mattered was that Gerard was with me and he wasn’t drunk, or high and that he’d promised he would stop. It felt real when he said that, but… I still had an uneasy feeling in my gut. The little voice in the back of my head was telling me something bad was going to happen. For now, though, I decided to ignore it. I mean… what’s the worst that could happen?