‹ Prequel: They Say You've Been Pleading
X-Kid
Four
Once Frank found Gerard things calmed down, though it had been a stressful few days of phone calls and tears, mostly from Frank.
“He’s okay,” I told him, but he wasn’t listening. His eyes rested on his friend as he lay in Frank’s bed with stitches and new bruises, this time covering larger areas.
“I just want to know why he does this to himself,” Frank sniffled. “I mean, what compels a man to throw himself in front of a car?”
“I wouldn’t know, Frank.”
We decided that I would take the couch whilst Frank took the spare room. I’d managed to convince him that his crying would wake Gerard from the lounge room but really, I just felt too horrible making him sleep on the couch when I was the intruder. We said our goodnights before he went around turning off all the lights, but the darkness wouldn’t help me sleep. My eyes weren’t even heavy.
I took to staring at the ceiling as I went over every memory I had of Gerard Way; I was less fond of some than others. I remembered how he used to flirt, and I remembered how he led me on. I remembered the way he smelt and the softness of his lips, and I remembered how capable he was of hurting me.
I heard the bathroom light turn on and turned my head just in time to see Gerard hobbling in that direction, closing the door behind himself. If I was honest with myself, then I wanted him to be okay. I wanted him to get through this part of his life and come out shining on the other end. The other half of me still just wanted to kick him in the balls for leaving so suddenly. I think I might have handled it, had it been any other way. Perhaps if he’d just told me he was no longer interested then we would still have been friends. My eyes closed and I thought back to how he used to glow, with his red hair falling around his bright hazel eyes and in his pretty, unblemished face. I think I must have found sleep, because I found a sort of peace.
My eyes were struggling to open but something had woken the rest of my body and I was bolted upright on the couch, running my hands across the back of my neck where a cold sweat had formed. A bad dream, perhaps. I squinted out into the darkness and saw a slither of light coming from beneath the bathroom door, but no noise coming from the other side. Slowly, my feet took me to the door and with a gentle touch I pushed it open.
Before my eyes was Gerard, leaned up against the tub and sprawled out on the bathroom floor. I thought he’d been asleep and had gone to touch his hair, but then he sobbed and I jumped back.
“A… are you okay?” I asked, unsure if it was wise. I knew nothing about him. Maybe this was normal.
“I’m fine,” he snapped, turning his head further away from me.
“You can’t get up, can you? You’re supposed to be using your crutches, and not sitting on the floor.”
“I can too get up!” I watched as Gerard grabbed hold of the towel rail, struggled, and then sat back down still once more. I sighed, grabbing his arm and helping him to his feet. I watched as he awkwardly made his way out of the room, closing the door to Frank’s bedroom. On the floor by my feet was what looked like a razor, but in parts. I'm not sure why out of everything that had gone down, that had been the image to make me cry.
“He’s okay,” I told him, but he wasn’t listening. His eyes rested on his friend as he lay in Frank’s bed with stitches and new bruises, this time covering larger areas.
“I just want to know why he does this to himself,” Frank sniffled. “I mean, what compels a man to throw himself in front of a car?”
“I wouldn’t know, Frank.”
We decided that I would take the couch whilst Frank took the spare room. I’d managed to convince him that his crying would wake Gerard from the lounge room but really, I just felt too horrible making him sleep on the couch when I was the intruder. We said our goodnights before he went around turning off all the lights, but the darkness wouldn’t help me sleep. My eyes weren’t even heavy.
I took to staring at the ceiling as I went over every memory I had of Gerard Way; I was less fond of some than others. I remembered how he used to flirt, and I remembered how he led me on. I remembered the way he smelt and the softness of his lips, and I remembered how capable he was of hurting me.
I heard the bathroom light turn on and turned my head just in time to see Gerard hobbling in that direction, closing the door behind himself. If I was honest with myself, then I wanted him to be okay. I wanted him to get through this part of his life and come out shining on the other end. The other half of me still just wanted to kick him in the balls for leaving so suddenly. I think I might have handled it, had it been any other way. Perhaps if he’d just told me he was no longer interested then we would still have been friends. My eyes closed and I thought back to how he used to glow, with his red hair falling around his bright hazel eyes and in his pretty, unblemished face. I think I must have found sleep, because I found a sort of peace.
My eyes were struggling to open but something had woken the rest of my body and I was bolted upright on the couch, running my hands across the back of my neck where a cold sweat had formed. A bad dream, perhaps. I squinted out into the darkness and saw a slither of light coming from beneath the bathroom door, but no noise coming from the other side. Slowly, my feet took me to the door and with a gentle touch I pushed it open.
Before my eyes was Gerard, leaned up against the tub and sprawled out on the bathroom floor. I thought he’d been asleep and had gone to touch his hair, but then he sobbed and I jumped back.
“A… are you okay?” I asked, unsure if it was wise. I knew nothing about him. Maybe this was normal.
“I’m fine,” he snapped, turning his head further away from me.
“You can’t get up, can you? You’re supposed to be using your crutches, and not sitting on the floor.”
“I can too get up!” I watched as Gerard grabbed hold of the towel rail, struggled, and then sat back down still once more. I sighed, grabbing his arm and helping him to his feet. I watched as he awkwardly made his way out of the room, closing the door to Frank’s bedroom. On the floor by my feet was what looked like a razor, but in parts. I'm not sure why out of everything that had gone down, that had been the image to make me cry.