‹ Prequel: Oh Em Gee
Status: Only a few more chapters left.
What the Frank
Open Your Eyes
{Gerard’s P.O.V}
I slowly opened my eyes, the sunlight from the forgotten blinds pouring in. I groaned as I threw my legs over the edge of the bed, the feeling of boulders being dropped on my head taking over my body. I dragged myself into the kitchen to get myself some water to hopefully get the taste of beer and vomit from my palate.
With water in hand, I walked to the living room, kicking an empty beer can out of my way. I looked around the room, noticing that the floor was littered in cans. I also noticed the broken glass and picture frame.
“Fuck.” I said, realizing that I would have to clean all this up. I looked around the room, looking for anything else that I would have to clean up. I noticed my broken cell phone in the corner, just below a small hole in the wall. My phone was in pieces; wires were poking out of the sides and the screen was separated from the phone itself.
“What the hell?” I thought out loud. Did I do this? I don’t rememberdoing it. Actually, I don’t remember anything about the past few days. The last thing I remember is the picture of Frank and I falling from the wall. That’s it; nothing before and nothing after. Do I have a problem?
“Nah, I’m just stressed.” I said to myself as I started picking up the pieces of my phone. As I began cleaning up the apartment, there was a knock at the door. I sighed, not in the mood for a visitor, as I went to go answer the door.
“Oh,” I said, surprised to see Lindsey on the other side.
“What are you doing here so early?” I said, assuming that it was before 12. She gave me a strange look before responding.
“Gerard, it’s three in the afternoon.” She said as she stepped inside.
“…Oh…” I said as I closed the door and finished picking up the beer cans from the floor.
“So, what’s up?” I said as I threw the last can in the trashcan. I joined Lindsey on the couch, earning a worried look from her.
“What’s wrong?” I said, confused. She looked so…hurt. What was wrong with her? Did I do something?
“I just came to check on you because of what happened last night.” What? What happened last night?
“What are you talking about?” I asked her as she brushed a stray hair away from her eyes.
“You called me, drunk, at four in the morning, screaming about Chuck. Gerard, I think you have a problem.” She said, upset.
“A problem? A problem with what?” I certainly don’t have a problem with alcohol.
“W-…I-…” She started, not being able to grasp onto any words. She sat there in silence, trying to form a proper sentence before speaking again.
“Every time I see you, you’re either drunk or hungover. You constantly call me at the most ridiculous hours in the morning, arguing with me over the dumbest shit! Gerard, I think you’re an alcoholic!” I was shocked. Me, an alcoholic?
“What!? Lindsey, I’m not a fucking alcoholic! This has just been an extremely stressful week.” I said as I put my head in my hands. I can’t be a fucking alcoholic; I won’tbe.
“It didn’t start this week, Gerard. It’s been going on for a fucking month now.” She said, sympathetically.
“It’s gotten to the point that I’m even afraid to bring Izzy around you anymore.” I sat there, my mouth agape and an idiotic look splashed across my face. I covered my mouth as I felt bile rise in my throat, both from this sudden revelation and my hangover.
I rushed to the bathroom, with Lindsey following close behind. She held my hair back as I vomited into the toilet. She handed me a piece of toilet paper after I was done. I wiped my mouth as I thought about what she had said. Was I really an alcoholic? I mean, alcoholics have alcohol all over their houses, and they’re always drunk, and they can’t remember the day before...I’ve just described myself.
“Are you okay?” She asked me as she flushed the toilet. I didn’t respond as I sat on the floor, hugging my knees to my chest.
“I’ll come and check on you in the morning, okay?” She said before exiting the bathroom. She stopped and turned right as she was in the doorway.
“I love you.”
I slowly opened my eyes, the sunlight from the forgotten blinds pouring in. I groaned as I threw my legs over the edge of the bed, the feeling of boulders being dropped on my head taking over my body. I dragged myself into the kitchen to get myself some water to hopefully get the taste of beer and vomit from my palate.
With water in hand, I walked to the living room, kicking an empty beer can out of my way. I looked around the room, noticing that the floor was littered in cans. I also noticed the broken glass and picture frame.
“Fuck.” I said, realizing that I would have to clean all this up. I looked around the room, looking for anything else that I would have to clean up. I noticed my broken cell phone in the corner, just below a small hole in the wall. My phone was in pieces; wires were poking out of the sides and the screen was separated from the phone itself.
“What the hell?” I thought out loud. Did I do this? I don’t rememberdoing it. Actually, I don’t remember anything about the past few days. The last thing I remember is the picture of Frank and I falling from the wall. That’s it; nothing before and nothing after. Do I have a problem?
“Nah, I’m just stressed.” I said to myself as I started picking up the pieces of my phone. As I began cleaning up the apartment, there was a knock at the door. I sighed, not in the mood for a visitor, as I went to go answer the door.
“Oh,” I said, surprised to see Lindsey on the other side.
“What are you doing here so early?” I said, assuming that it was before 12. She gave me a strange look before responding.
“Gerard, it’s three in the afternoon.” She said as she stepped inside.
“…Oh…” I said as I closed the door and finished picking up the beer cans from the floor.
“So, what’s up?” I said as I threw the last can in the trashcan. I joined Lindsey on the couch, earning a worried look from her.
“What’s wrong?” I said, confused. She looked so…hurt. What was wrong with her? Did I do something?
“I just came to check on you because of what happened last night.” What? What happened last night?
“What are you talking about?” I asked her as she brushed a stray hair away from her eyes.
“You called me, drunk, at four in the morning, screaming about Chuck. Gerard, I think you have a problem.” She said, upset.
“A problem? A problem with what?” I certainly don’t have a problem with alcohol.
“W-…I-…” She started, not being able to grasp onto any words. She sat there in silence, trying to form a proper sentence before speaking again.
“Every time I see you, you’re either drunk or hungover. You constantly call me at the most ridiculous hours in the morning, arguing with me over the dumbest shit! Gerard, I think you’re an alcoholic!” I was shocked. Me, an alcoholic?
“What!? Lindsey, I’m not a fucking alcoholic! This has just been an extremely stressful week.” I said as I put my head in my hands. I can’t be a fucking alcoholic; I won’tbe.
“It didn’t start this week, Gerard. It’s been going on for a fucking month now.” She said, sympathetically.
“It’s gotten to the point that I’m even afraid to bring Izzy around you anymore.” I sat there, my mouth agape and an idiotic look splashed across my face. I covered my mouth as I felt bile rise in my throat, both from this sudden revelation and my hangover.
I rushed to the bathroom, with Lindsey following close behind. She held my hair back as I vomited into the toilet. She handed me a piece of toilet paper after I was done. I wiped my mouth as I thought about what she had said. Was I really an alcoholic? I mean, alcoholics have alcohol all over their houses, and they’re always drunk, and they can’t remember the day before...I’ve just described myself.
“Are you okay?” She asked me as she flushed the toilet. I didn’t respond as I sat on the floor, hugging my knees to my chest.
“I’ll come and check on you in the morning, okay?” She said before exiting the bathroom. She stopped and turned right as she was in the doorway.
“I love you.”