Disenchanted (Frerard + Petekey)

It's Not A Fashion Statement It's A Death Wish

"Puh-leeeease! Isn't there anything you can do?"

"Sorry dude, I wish I could help but it's above my pay grade. My hands are tied." Vic responded tiredly. Gerard had been begging him to smuggle his sketchbook in from the security office for the better part of an hour.

"Can you at least like, duct-tape it shut or something? I don't want anybody going through it..." he trailed off as he realized he was fighting a losing battle.

There's things in there they can't see...

"Oh yeah, that whole crazy thing where you painted with your blood?" A male voice cackled from the corner.

"Better hope Mikey didn't leaf through it!" Came a high-pitched giggle.

Well yes, that. And like, not everything is great. Like who needs to see seven pages of half-finished hands and bad color-work?

"You're just being a baby."

"Nobody cares about you anyway, why would they bother?"

"I'll see what I can do." Vic's voice broke through the cacophony.
Gerard sighed deeply and let his hair shag over his face. He was doing his best to look pathetic in the hopes Vic would somehow take pitty on him and rescue his sketchbook.

"It's okay if you can't. I just wanted to be able to take my work home with me y'know? And there's some stuff in there I wanted to show people."

A hateful hiss sounded over his shoulder, "Lies."

Vic shrugged, "I'll try dude, but don't get your hopes up." He turned and strode away down the hall, leaving Gerard to flop back onto his shitty, rubber-covered mattress and stare up at the offensively white ceiling.

"Well that worked out didn't it." The male voice spoke sarcastically.

"Whatever." Gerard whispered.
He can't help me any more than I can help myself.

"Fucking useless—"

I can't believe I was so naive as to think something good could happen. Ugh. Gerard you're fucking useless. No wonder they shipped me off here, who'd want me around.

"—Just taking up space."

"Waste of oxygen if you ask me."

"Pathetic. Just pathetic."

He cringed and rolled to face the wall.

"Disgraceful. Can't believe you're my son." His mother's voice echoed from a distant memory.

"How could you?"

"Why don't you just kill yourself, fag!"

They we're getting louder. He squeezed his eyes shut, wishing his eyelids could block out the voices the way they blocked out the white-washed hell he'd been left in.

"Shut the fuck up. Shut the fuck up. Shut the fuck up!" He whispered aloud, clamping his hands over his ears in what he hoped was an inconspicuous manner for anyone walking past his open door.

A male voice laughed, the sound echoing through Gerard's mind. Bouncing off the walls it reverberated.
The others joined in. A woman with a deep pitch, others who were indistinguishable, the high-pitched giggling added to the din.