Pieces of Me

GERARD'S P.O.V

I sat at the table in my pajamas, starring into my warm coffee. Something was wrong with Roxy, why else would she call? I yawned and raised the mug to my lips and sipped the coffee that burned but soothed my throat. Laura was upstairs taking a shower, I could hear the water running. She said she was hurt, and could tell she was crying, I only wish I could have been there.

I hope no one hurt her, that girl's been through so much shit already that's the last thing she needs. It kept me up for the rest of that night. I debated weather on calling her again or just try to go back to sleep. I didn't want to wake her up if she managed to get back to sleep, but I was worried about her. In the end I just laid in bed, listening to Laura breath and only wondering.

I looked over at our black suitcases that were already packed. Just about three more days and then we're on tour again. Even though she was only on the last two months of the tour, it felt like she had been on it the entire time. I admit it'll be different with out her. But I'm sure it'll be just as fun with Laura, and Mikey's bringing Alicia, she's always fun. I laughed to myself as I thought that her and Bob wouldn't fight over who got the bunk over the drivers seat anymore now that we had gotten a different bus. But I think they still have a bunk above the drivers seat.

I heard the blow drier go off and I finished off the rest of my coffee. I figured it would be best if I got dressed. I ran up the stairs to my room and opened my closet, not before banging my foot against the door.

"Shit!" I whispered. A bunch of papers fell off the top shelf.

"God damn it!" I muttered and knelt to pick them off. They were just a few scribbles of my drawings. I found the picture that I drew of her, the one where she's asleep and dreaming of her father. I smiled slowly and held it up to the light. She told me when she was here that she had dreams of us often. I smiled and went over to the little drawer over by our bed.

I opened it and dug around all the junk for a pencil. I found one next to a birthday card Bob had given me.

***

Laura came back out make-up on and fully dressed. I looked up at her, smiled the continued o make the last few details on the picture. She came over to me and sat down on the bed next to me, I could smell the lavender soap on her. She tilted her head and then moved the paper from under my hands so she could get a better look.

"Who's this?" she asked me.

"It's Roxy, doesn't it look like her?" I asked. She nodded and looked at the dream bubble where I had erased her dad holding her and put us in it. Bob was to the very left, holding a drumstick in the air, Frank was next to him, one arm just dangling the other leaning against me. I had my hands at my side, a cigarette in one hand and I had a smirk on my face, Mikey was next to me, scratching his head with one hand and raising his eyebrows, Ray was next to him, just standing and crossing his arms.

"This is good," she said slowly, cautiously. I didn't know if it was an insult r compliment with her tone.

"Thanks," I said anyways. I was used to people being all, "Ohmigod! You're so good!", with fans for the most part. Half a smile spread across my lips. Roxy used to always steal my sketch pad. She tried to draw one of her dead roses, but I think she should just stick to her school work now, if you catch my drift.

She put it down then smiled at me. I smiled back and got up to where I was on my knees, wrapped my arms around her waist then pulled her back onto the bed with me. She giggled.

"Gerard, not now! I just got out of the shower!" She squealed as I kissed her neck.

"Oh, trying to look pretty for someone else?" I asked sarcastically.

"Maybe." she giggled.

***
ROXY'S P.O.V
Anger boiled my blood as the wind whipped through my hair, and stung my eyes and face. I shivered from the cold. I turned a corner that came to a busy street. I don't remember coming his way. I could call Sophie or George but what good would that do? It would only worry them and they don't have a car or know this part of town.

I decided to go left which was the opposite way of the busy street. I kept my eyes to the ground, I thought if I looked up he might be right there in his mustang.

"Fuck," I muttered to myself as a lady pushing a stroller passed by. I flashed a quick smile to her then kept on walking. The cold stung my nose and ears, and my eyes were beginning to water, I would really look like an "emo" kid now, if I started to tear from the wind. I didn't feel like crying, I was to damn frustrated to. My relationship with Jack was over, even though he might not want or know it was.

***

I made it back home. But he found me half way and practically bagged me to get in the car, so I did.

"You seem mad babe." he said starring out at road.

"Gee, what made you think that." I said very sarcastic. I looked outside the window. The anger was rising in me, I folded my arms and balled my hands into fists for fear if I didn't get a hold of all his tension I would just scream out m frustration.

"Look, baby," he began. I couldn't take it any more.

"No you look, for one, I'm not your baby, and I won't be until you admit you have a problem, second you treat me like shit even when your sober," I said trying my hardest not to yell and bring out the worst of him. I kept my hands in fists, not knowing what his reaction to my words was going to be.

He didn't even look at me, we were close to the dorms. He bit his lip, sighed, closed his eyes and finally nodded.

"I see," he finally whispered. Something in his tone told me I could unwind my fingers and relax.

"Which part?" I asked.

"That you're not my baby," he said looking over to me. I starred back.

"And you don't realize the other problem?" I asked gently. I did feel bad, he needed help, but he was in denial.

"Just leave," he said. We were already in front of the dorms.I debated with myself whether to do what he said and just leave him, with out any help. I hesitated for a moment, starring into his face. I sighed, there was no way I could help him now, he wouldn't listen to me. Maybe he would have to be like Gerard and just realize himself that he had a problem.

I opened the door and left. As soon as I closed it I heard the tires squeak as he tore down the street, faster than he usually does.

What the hell is wrong with me? Why do I feel bad for someone who hurt me? Why do I feel bad for someone who doesn't want to change for the better of himself? I was willing to try to help him, but I was also scared of what he would do to me if he didn't like that fact that I was trying to help him.

I slowly walked up the stairs, sighed then sat down and buried my face into my hands.

"Fuck!" I yelled and banged my hand against the wall.