Hearts and Wrists Intact ×Frerard×

Chapter One

Chapter One: I Would Care Just To Feel Less Invisible.

-QUICK A/N: This may be a potentially triggering fanfiction, Gerard is suicidal )):
Read with caution buts otherwise, enjoy!
Cover by CuzILikeBands
~Toby

*Gerard's P.O.V*

I've walked alone in many city lights and from my travels I've discovered the only comforting light in this bleak world is the one from your very own computer screen.

It's like a beacon. Every synthetic ray is like a tiny hand shining out to hold your own. Now, you may say that the Web holds many dangers- which is undeniable- but it's all up to how the user navigates around it.

I've spent 2 out of my 17 years on the Internet and I can wholeheartedly say it was 2 years well spent.
Was.

As you would imagine, after two years of working the Web I'd know how to get around. That's why it didn't take me long to find a growing FaceBook page created by my fellow pupils in my honor.

Perhaps 'honor' isn't absolutely appropriate when addressing my little 'fanpage'. Ultimately, what it was was a page dedicated to getting me to- well- kill myself.
I won't lie, over 300 likes was pretty impressive.

Though there was no doubt in my mind that a good portion of those likes were from spare accounts and mindless zombie followers (who have no idea I exist and are just crawling onto the bandwagon), even 5 likes was pretty depressing.
Well, I'm not one to disappoint.

To say that this page is what is driving me to suicide would be a lie. Actually, the zombies, spare accounts, rebloggers, and page-creators are a bit late to the party. I've been wanting to off myself for how long now?
Weeks?
Months?
Could it be...
Even years?

However long was too long.
For ages I've had this super massive black hole in my stomach and I swear on my life that whatever it is has tendrils wrapped around my skull. It knows things. It knows things I could never find on my laptop. Things about me, things about the people around me, things about my future. No matter how loud I turn up my earphones, it'll be there.

"Your internet friends are here because they pity you"

"You don't have any friends because you're too fat. Just starve yourself, it's easy."

"Gerard, your parents think you're untalented. What are you even living for?"

It's not like there's voices in my head. I'm not crazy, trust me I read about mental illnesses on Tumblr and Web MD. That's besides the point.

With a loud sigh, I closed my tabs and lurched backwards in my desk chair. For approximately two hours now I had been googling most common suicide methods.
Ruling out guns and razors was easy, I'm kinda iffy about hanging myself and I'm still debating whether overdosing is an effective way out.

An unwelcomed light poured through my opening door; threatening to rival the brilliant light radiating from my monitor.

"What is it, Mom?" I croaked, startled by the roughness of my own voice.

"Come eat with us?" Her plastic smile flashed my way and I gripped my desk to keep myself from recoiling.

You see, the problem with parents is that they think they know when you need to eat. I'll admit, I am a bit peckish but not fully hungry. Besides, I've seen girls on the internet go a few days without eating properly. It's got to be normal, right?

Yet none of this matters because I need to keep up my 'good boy' act. So (although it wasn't in my best interests) I agreed to go join my family with a dainty peroxide princess nod. All of this felt so fake. I don't want to fake anything anymore. I certainly don't want to fake happiness.

Pleased by my sugar-sweet eagerness to do what I told, my mom skipped off with blissful ignorance back into her kitchen domain. What a clueless woman.

Sauntering out of my dark bedroom and into the gleaming kitchen spotlights was not a good idea on my behalf.
Thump.
Stomp.
Thump.
Stomp.
My heartbeat and heavy footsteps were almost competing with each other to see who could be the loudest.

"Sit down, Gee. You look like a zombie!" Scoffed Mikey (my little brother). Oh, I could teach him a thing or two about zombies.

I dropped into my seat. As I shuffled in a restless attempt to get comfortable, I noticed an envelope addressed to me tucked under the flower vase.
It looked like someone was trying to hide it.

The black void in my stomach opened up and snarled; sending its message directly to my head.

"They're gonna send you awaaaaay!" It sang tauntingly. "Or did you fuck up at school... again."

Swallowing hard, I tried to swipe the letter from under the vase but my mother was too fast. Either that or I was in a stunned slowness.

"Ah, ah, ah! That's for me, not you!" She cooed like I was six years old.

I began my protest "But it says my na-"
No use.

"I know what it says Gee-Gee!" Cringe. "But I'll deal with it."

Gee-Gee. I'm just a child to her.
Nothing more, nothing less. Fine, I might as well act the part!
"But Mooommm!" I huffed, throwing myself into a rickety, unstable chair- nearly tipping over in the process.

Mikey sneered and rolled his eyes. "Wow, how mature."

"Oh, Mikeyyy!" I drew out the 'y' in my highest pitched voice in retaliation. "How's your boyfriend? Y'know, Paul?"

"Pete." He growled under his breath. "His name is Pete, he's not my boyfriend and he won't leave me alone!"

Time to use this to my (childish) advantage. "Pete and Mikeyyyy! Petekey! Petekey! Petekey!"

Hands hit the table. "MOOOM!" Really? Complaining to your mother? I mean c'mon, that's low even by my standards.

But it's not like she cares.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk! Boys will be boys!" She casually brushed us off and returned to rationing out food on our plates. Quickly cramming everything in my mouth, I tossed my dishes in the sink and dashed in an animalistic fashion back to my bedroom.

"Gee-Gee!" My mother sang out right before I could slither away into my man-cave.

I threw myself against the wall in almost a tantrum-like fit. What the Hell does she want? Is she going to read me a fucking bedtime story or something?
I trudged into the kitchen.

"Since when have you been seeing a counselor?" She stared daggers at me, flashing the letter from earlier.
Hasn't anyone ever heard of something called privacy?
Damn, I wish I could put a password on my life.