Forever & Always.

Gerard Way's POV [/center/

The notebook in front of me lay open with blank pages. The words that usually came so easy to me when writing songs were long gone. My mind was blank. I reached out and grabbed the bottle of vodka that was on the table. I lifted the neck of the bottle to my lips and downed a mouthful, my face pulling into a grimace at the taste. My vision was beginning to blur and my tongue felt numb, but still I couldn’t stop the sharp ache in my chest. The alcohol that used to mask my pain so well now only seemed to dull it by a miniscule amount.

Ciara was only gone one week and yet it felt like forever. I’d forgotten what it felt like to lose her. Forgotten how much it hurt. In such a short space of time she had managed to wedge herself back into her own part of my heart, the part that I had thought was void of all emotions after she left me when we were kids. She called me almost every day and that just seemed to make things worse. Hearing her disappointed tone when I was drunk made me feel like shit.
I wanted to get clean for her; I really wanted to do it. I think I was hoping to worm my way back into her heart. I was hoping that, after all these years, I’d get the life I’d always wanted with Ciara. We’d get married, have kids, and I’d be sober. We’d be happy and I’d get to see her smile every day. She’d get the life she deserved. But, of course I had to go and ruin it on us. She was barely even gone and I had cracked. The pain in my chest was so too strong to ignore and I had to fill with something, even if it only dulled the pain for a few hours. I lifted the bottle to my mouth once again and downed some more of the foul tasting alcohol.

“You’re such a fuck up, Gerard,” I mumbled almost incoherently to myself as I returned my focus to the notebook on the table in front of me.

I tried to focus on writing a song. But the words still evaded me. Usually this wouldn’t bother me and I’d have assumed it would just because I was tired, but this writer’s block had occurred every night since Ciara had told me she was going back to Ireland. It was like she had taken all my inspiration when she left me. I couldn’t write songs, couldn’t draw – which was causing a bit of a problem with his comic book idea I had been working on – I couldn’t even work on the new concept for our next album. It was almost as if she had sucked all the talent out of me when she left. I couldn’t see the beauty in the world anymore; everything was just a black and white blur.

Nothing mattered without her by my side. Who’d care if I drank myself into oblivion? Who’d care if tonight I went too far and didn’t wake up in the morning? The world lacked all its usual colour without Ciara to brighten it. It didn’t seem worth the effort to stay sober for her when she wasn’t here to see my progress. My mind kept wandering to that feeling I got when I snorted drugs. The times when I felt on top of the world, when nothing could hurt me. The temptation to self-destruct once more was becoming almost unbearable as I sat staring at that stupid blank piece of paper, taunting me.

Ciara was obviously needed back home. I mean, there was no way she could let that kid suffer alone, that wasn’t in her nature. But still, I found myself selfishly wishing that she had put me first, picked me over that kid. It was childish but I didn’t care. I missed my best friend, the one girl I’d always thought I’d marry. I hated myself for being such a child about it all.
My phone rang, knocking me out of my self-loathing thoughts. I grabbed it off the wooden table and was surprised by the name flashing across the screen. Bert (:

“Hey,” I greeted him as I answered the call, anything to distract me from my own misery. It didn’t matter that I could probably guess why Bert was ringing me – he only ever called for one reason – but I was just hoping that his voice would distract me from my desperate thoughts.

“Gee-tard! ‘Sup?” A very drunk Bert shouted down the phone at me. “You able to come New York tonight?”

There was the reason I had predicted he had called – Bert’s actions were so easy to predict. Obviously The Used were back for the weekend and they were in the mood for partying. Instantly I knew what that meant – getting drunk with Bert and fucking him, leading to me regretting it all in the morning. It would be the usual night out with him and his band. My head told me it’d be a bad idea to agree to it all, and of course it was right, but I was so desperate to rid myself of this feeling of being colourblind without Ciara. I convinced myself that a night out could be a good thing, that I’d distract myself from missing Ciara.

“Sure dude, see you soon?”

“Whoop!” Bert laughed down the phone, “Catch you in a bit, man.”

I smiled a little as I pocketed my phone, grabbed my wallet and threw on my leather jacket. Tonight would go just like any night out with The Used and I knew Ciara would be mad, but somehow I couldn’t bring myself to care.
Instead I grabbed my house keys off the table and made my way to the door, desperate to get my fix. Desperate to numb myself to the pain in my chest.

On the way out the front door my phone rang again. I took it out and glance at the name – Ciara <3 (: . I couldn’t help the smile that spread across my face, though I soon let it drop. If I answered the call, Ciara would only ask me about my plans for the night and I couldn’t lie to her. She’d be pissed if she found out where I was going. Sighing regretfully, I pushed my thumb down on the “Ignore” button and continued on my way out of the house, letting the guilt gnaw at my stomach.