Born and Broken Every Single Time.

That night flew. It was just like a repeat of my movie night with Gerard except this time, I took a back seat. Mikey and Gerard seemed to have lost all awkwardness around them and weren’t acting like brothers, they were just acting like friends, and pretty damn good ones at that. The only moment that had thrown us from this ‘happy’ state was the photo frame. When we saw what Gerard had etched neatly onto it, both Mikey and I had one of those strange moments where it felt like you were going to cry from happiness, but you didn’t. Neither of us admitted to feeling like this but I did, and I know for a fact Mikey did too.

Aside from that moment, I had to admit when I noticed it was past midnight, I felt slightly deflated. It wasn’t five days anymore, it was four. Somehow it felt more difficult to accept his departure when the days slowly dwindled away.

After an evening of shitty horror films and an avoidance of Armageddon, we all crashed out on the floor in Gerard’s room. We brought the cover from Mikeys and the spare cover I used to have through and just used the floor as our mattress. It wasn’t exactly comfortable, but when you’re tired beyond belief, sometimes you don’t care that much.

When I woke up the next morning, it took me a moment to realise where I was. The surroundings seemed unfamiliar as I found two random duvets next to me and the Way’s voices down the hall. I got up, groaning as the light crushed my eyes, and dragged myself down the hall. I peeked into Mikey’s room to see the pair of them sitting on the edge of his bed. They both greeted me with a smile.

“We didn’t want to wake you,” Gerard began. “I, uh, okay this might sound rude but-“

“We were wondering if you’d mind heading home about lunch,” Mikey interrupted. I didn’t mind, but he continued, still under the belief I would be. “W-we want to have a day, if that’s okay…”

“Of course it’s okay,” I grinned. “I’m not your fucking mother.”

“WHAT WAS THAT FRANK?” Mrs. Way shouted from her room, causing us all to giggle incessantly.

“Nothing,” I replied casually, grinning.

“So,” Gerard smiled. “It’s okay, yeah?”

“Sure!” I smiled. “I’ll just head when I’m sorted.”

They said I didn’t have to rush, but even though I said I wouldn’t, I did. I had been with them last night because they thought it would be weird on their own, but seeing that they were fine together, more than fine, made me want to give them their time together because as it stands, Gerard’s time here was limited. As soon as I had my stuff in my bag I hugged my goodbyes and left.

I walked home after a loud and chirpy goodbye from Mrs. Way who made an effort to get up just to give me a hug. It wasn’t an interesting walk, 10am on a Sunday morning wasn’t that busy a time on the streets. I headed into my house, dumping my bag at the bottom of the stairs and running up to my room. My dad shouted to check who it was, quietening again as I confirmed it was me.

I switched the television on, which was just an automatic response to being in my room. Contrary to the believe that as it was always on, I’d always be watching it – it was more just to create some background noise. I didn’t have anything planned for the day, seeing as originally I was meant to be with Mikey so I decided it was time to do something about my room, it was time for the new start.

So the Slash poster was a new start in itself, but it was more of a foundation. The real new start is getting back to a place that I could call my own and feel completely content in; strangely enough one poster wasn’t considered contentment. I turned the sound down on the television as I slammed my CD player on. I might not even be able to hear the TV when my music is on, but it’s still a necessity for it to be switched on. I didn’t check what CD it was, but luckily enough it was an Anthrax one. I’d borrowed it from Mikey and still was forgetting to give him it back. It was only fair, he still had my Black Flag album.

I looked through the pile of posters that still lay in the corner of my room. Just like I had suspected, they were posters that had been salvaged from the wreckage and much to my pleasant surprise, a few new ones that looked to have come from magazines. As my album played, I got to work on repostering my walls. There wasn’t enough to get it back to the completely covered level it’s previous glory was, but I could get a wall done I’d estimate.

As the album played, I got to work at filling up the wall that had the desolate Slash poster. I had some Black Flag, Ramones and Smashing Pumpkins posters. I opted to put my poster of Duff McKagen next to Slash, it was a kind of Guns ‘n’ Roses guitarist/bassist poster pairing in my mind. By the time my album had played through once I’d almost covered my wall. I must admit, I was quite impressed, but more importantly, I was inspired.

It’s amazing what seeing your heroes staring back at you can do to your motivation, whether it fully pushes you into playing your guitar or even simply making you smile. The point is, a little can go a long way; simple posters can turn your room around and when your room is your haven, that’s something huge.

I spent the rest of my day just lazing around in my room, occasionally mustering enough energy to play along to my CD’s on my guitar. Mostly I just lay there, looking at my posters and thinking back over the past months. It was hellish, but it was amazing. How could that work? I’d argue that it couldn’t – that you’re life couldn’t be a living hell, but be the best time of your life – but for me, it has been.

The times I’ve had in this room. I didn’t want to think about them, but I knew no matter how hard I try, throughout my life those memories will never disperse. They’ll always be in the back of mind, there to haunt me when I slip up. I can think of the good times and the bad times, but there’s the one contradicting moment that springs to mind.

I came home to get stuff to take back to the Way’s house. I was here with Gerard. My mother came in, drunk, and started shouting her usual abuse at me. I remember sitting there feeling so low, so vulnerable. Then there was Gerard. He didn’t feel scared, he didn’t feel like I did. He was there to save me from her, from everything. I remember as he squared up to her, not being violent but letting her know exactly what was running through his mind. I remember just looking up at him as he spoke, making her look at me. Seeing her cave into his request gave me this sudden hope that she’d finally stop this, realise what she was doing to me. But then I saw the look in her eyes, and that amazing ounce of hope crashed into the hell I’d grown to fear.

It’s contradictions like that which surrounded my past. The good equalling the bad, but somehow I felt the good override that. It was one of those ‘deep’ days where I just thought about anything and everything that popped into my mind. Then it came to midnight, and just like the night before, I felt this sudden sadness as I realised that one minute could indicate a new day; one less day to go.