Two Cent Hearts

"Gerard! Don't!" Eliza shrieked, but she liked it really. I stopped running my hands down her sides and wrapped my arms around her, tilting her backwards and kissing her. She pulled away and giggled loudly. Frank stormed past, throwing his bag over his shoulder, and Mikey hurried after him.

"Kids," I smirked into Eliza's ear. Frank didn't even bother to look back at me. But like I cared. He's too fucking hormonal lately for me to bother with him. Mikey did look back however, looking somehow disappointed, like when he caught me smoking in high-school. "What?" I mouthed at him, but he just turned away.

I sighed and took Eliza's hand, leading her to the hotel elevator. She trotted behind me, almost tripping over in her heels. She never usually wore heels. Why start now? I thought, but didn't linger on it.

In the room we would be sharing for tonight, I showered and changed for the show. We'd be playing with The Used tonight, and wanted it to go well.

"Are you coming to watch babe?" I asked Eliza, while pulling on my t-shirt. She was lying on the bed, legs crossed neatly, texting.

"Oh, sorry honey. I-I don't feel too good, and you know, how stuffy it can be in those places," She said apologetically.

"Oh..." I felt a little disappointed. "That's alright," I went over to hug her.

"I'm sorry," She breathed as I wrapped my arms around her shoulders.

"It's okay. I'll just see you later. Maybe if you're feeling better...." I nibbled her earlobe, imagining her smile as I did.

"Yeah, maybe. You'd better go," She smiled as I pulled away. Her smile looked rather forced. Maybe she was feeling ill.

******

"They canceled?!" I yelled at Frank, both of us hurrying towards the stage. He was carrying his guitar.

"Don't yell at me! Apparently Bert just doesn't want to play. Drunk, no doubt," Frank sighed, flicking his hair away from his eyes.

"Great. Now we'll have to hold the stage on our own," I gritted out. We were now in the sidelines, the roar of the crowd already scolding my ears.

"Yeah, well, you won't struggle with that," Frank muttered, as we stepped into the limelight.

******

There's only so much one person can take.
To hear one's significant other fucking another man
I think that justifies a complete emotional breakdown.

I arrived at the door to my hotel room, pulling out the key and sighing as I struggled to fit it into the door. Something, possibly my guardian angel, as if I had one, made me stop, and listen.

"Oh, Bert!"

There are said to be five stages of grief.

In the next hour I went through four of them:

Denial
I stared at the door, counting the seconds, forcing myself not to think about it, because surely I must be imagining it. If I walked into the room right now, I would see...I was being stupid. But then....why couldn't I open the door?

Anger
I didn't even have the guts to open the door. I couldn't even face my lying cheating scum of a girlfriend.

Bargaining
I slouched my way to the hotel bar, praying in mind for everything to go away.
But it wouldn't.....
God couldn't even do that for me.

Depression
Finally, I drank myself into a state of absolute misery and went to the only person who never turned his back on me. Even my own brother frowned upon my drinking. But never Frank.
Never Frank.

"Frank?" I sobbed, pounding on the door, sinking the floor. I continued to knock on the door repeatedly, crying silently.

"Gerard? What the fuck-" He opened the door and saw me slumped on the ground. "Holy...what's happened? What have you done?"