Status: Currently on hold (evil writer's block) though I fully intend to finish this story eventually.
My Favorite Part Was Dying
Helena
Gerard sang quietly to the empty room:
"Long ago,
Just like the hearse you died to get in again,
You are so far from me..."
Where are you? he thought as he sat on his bed, willing Mikey to come back. Three days had passed since the funeral. Three days since he had seen his beloved brother. He had refused to leave his room for fear of missing him, only leaving to go to the bathroom. Three days since Gerard had eaten. Three days since he had held a conversation with anyone that lasted longer than two minutes.
You're not gonna come back, are you?
Gerard slowly stood up, opened the door and left his room. He was parched. He made his way to the tiny kitchen down the hall and gulped down two glasses of water.
"Donna?" Gerard's father's voice called as he made his way into the kitchen also.
"Oh, Gerard..." he said, startled to see his son outside his room. He smiled slightly and moved forward to hug the teen. Gerard stood frozen in place, not responding to the embrace at all. When Donald finally let go, Gerard silently slipped back into his room. He grabbed a pencil and an old cheap sketchbook from off his desk and flipped to a clean page.
He allowed his hand to move however it wanted, assuming no control over it. After a few minutes all the grief, confusion, pain, and anger he felt had been poured into the page. A sketch of his own face stared back at him. The eyes were the only thing that were really out of place, they weren't his -- they were Mikey's. They almost looked real, he was captivated by them.
"Why did you have to go?" he asked the eyes. Of course no answer came back to him. He sighed and ripped the page from the book, crumpling it and throwing it to the floor.
Hell, If I stay in here by myself any longer I'll go insane... if I haven't already.
* * *
He knocked on his parents' bedroom door.
"Come in," he heard his mother say blearily. He entered gingerly, biting his lip as he came to stand at the foot of their bed.
"I-I wanna go to school today." Gerard said quietly.
Donna smiled slightly, taking in the sight of her son in the room that was just starting to fill with morning sunlight. She prodded her husband and he sat up. The two of them looked at Gerard as he stood there awkwardly. He was showered and dressed and ready to go. Besides the air of sadness that hung around him like a thin mist, he looked alright. They were happy to see him ready to spend time with people again, they had begun to worry about him locked up in his room.
"I'll take you," Donald said, smiling and getting up from the bed.
"Thanks," Gerard said to his father. He left the room quickly and went to wait in the entrance hall, his backpack and sketchpad already in front of the door.
Crap. This is a mistake. I can't go back yet.... But then what else am I gonna do? Gerard debated with himself as he sat in the car on the way to Belleville High. They finally pulled up in front of the imposing brick building and Gerard forced himself to get out.
"Thanks, Dad..." he muttered as he slammed the car door and headed towards what he realized was his own personal hell.
"Long ago,
Just like the hearse you died to get in again,
You are so far from me..."
Where are you? he thought as he sat on his bed, willing Mikey to come back. Three days had passed since the funeral. Three days since he had seen his beloved brother. He had refused to leave his room for fear of missing him, only leaving to go to the bathroom. Three days since Gerard had eaten. Three days since he had held a conversation with anyone that lasted longer than two minutes.
You're not gonna come back, are you?
Gerard slowly stood up, opened the door and left his room. He was parched. He made his way to the tiny kitchen down the hall and gulped down two glasses of water.
"Donna?" Gerard's father's voice called as he made his way into the kitchen also.
"Oh, Gerard..." he said, startled to see his son outside his room. He smiled slightly and moved forward to hug the teen. Gerard stood frozen in place, not responding to the embrace at all. When Donald finally let go, Gerard silently slipped back into his room. He grabbed a pencil and an old cheap sketchbook from off his desk and flipped to a clean page.
He allowed his hand to move however it wanted, assuming no control over it. After a few minutes all the grief, confusion, pain, and anger he felt had been poured into the page. A sketch of his own face stared back at him. The eyes were the only thing that were really out of place, they weren't his -- they were Mikey's. They almost looked real, he was captivated by them.
"Why did you have to go?" he asked the eyes. Of course no answer came back to him. He sighed and ripped the page from the book, crumpling it and throwing it to the floor.
Hell, If I stay in here by myself any longer I'll go insane... if I haven't already.
* * *
He knocked on his parents' bedroom door.
"Come in," he heard his mother say blearily. He entered gingerly, biting his lip as he came to stand at the foot of their bed.
"I-I wanna go to school today." Gerard said quietly.
Donna smiled slightly, taking in the sight of her son in the room that was just starting to fill with morning sunlight. She prodded her husband and he sat up. The two of them looked at Gerard as he stood there awkwardly. He was showered and dressed and ready to go. Besides the air of sadness that hung around him like a thin mist, he looked alright. They were happy to see him ready to spend time with people again, they had begun to worry about him locked up in his room.
"I'll take you," Donald said, smiling and getting up from the bed.
"Thanks," Gerard said to his father. He left the room quickly and went to wait in the entrance hall, his backpack and sketchpad already in front of the door.
Crap. This is a mistake. I can't go back yet.... But then what else am I gonna do? Gerard debated with himself as he sat in the car on the way to Belleville High. They finally pulled up in front of the imposing brick building and Gerard forced himself to get out.
"Thanks, Dad..." he muttered as he slammed the car door and headed towards what he realized was his own personal hell.