November 1st (Frerard)

23: Tuesday, October 23rd

This was a world in which alone was devoid of meaning.

And meaning itself held very little worth, as lines frayed and ink bled and words spewed from lips when they shouldn't.

This was the epitome of aftermath: the stand still, held breath, prolonged eye contact, eyes watering in the need to blink. One moment of baited breath and crossed fingers as the world fell apart.

This was a world in which together was devoid of meaning.

As hearts grew and changed and attraction was momentarily and so permanent at the same time: like ink bleeding and paper tearing away as you scribbled over everything, until there was nothing left, besides inky finger tips, and regret, and a desk.

A seaside view, also, for what it was worth.

Which was indeed so much and so little.

A view he'd see for only eight days now.

And yet he made no particular effort to appreciate it, as he sat at his desk: inky fingers - dark blue, and the remains of paper - several mistakes, forged in solitude in and company all at once, as thoughts danced around his head like people, dancing to a tune he couldn't recognise, one they sang along to, laughed along to - one which dictated the room, and one which outcast him instantly.

Gerard was indeed the outcast in his own mind: forced back against the wall with a cup in his hand: wide eyes as people danced, and the world spun in and out of focus: a scene he soon found himself able to recognise as his aunt's wedding, where he'd found himself outcast and alone, trembling at age fourteen.

A room he hadn't belonged in, and a room that was still on his mind at age seventeen for a reason unbeknownst to him. A reason he didn't particularly care to ponder, because all he could think of then was that the food at his aunt's wedding had been shit, and that Kat had fallen over when playing with the other kids, having been twelve at the time, and cut their knee open and their mother had acted like it was the end of the fucking world.

In that moment, as everyone flocked to a bloody knee and an unfussed twelve year old: eager to just get up again, Gerard had watched his aunt down half a bottle of vodka and smooth down her wedding dress as she made it out of one of the rooms off to the side of the venue. A few minutes later, his other uncle, the one she was not getting married to, stumbled out of the room after her.

And the two had gotten married.

And the next year, he attended his other uncle's wedding, and his aunt had just looked at that man as he said his vows and married another woman, because thirteen was too old to fall over and cut your knee and cause a distraction, and the spare rooms were in use.

The food was better at that wedding, though.

Gerard did wonder what had gone on between them.

And Gerard did wonder why he wondered, because he only saw his extended family at funerals and weddings, and he wouldn't be seeing them again.

He glanced down at his desk, grabbing a new sheet of paper, and wondering whether he should ask Kat to watch the way his other uncle and his aunt looked at each other at his funeral, or if that would be inappropriate, or if they'd even have much of an opportunity of anything anymore, because sixteen was far too old to fall and cause a fuss, and his mother didn't even care that much anymore.

It was okay, though, because what she had done was care too much, this was perhaps the middle ground, and yet something Kat refused to appreciate. Gerard knew they would miss it though, once it was gone, once he was gone, because he knew his mother wouldn't keep it together after he killed himself, and still, this didn't change anything at all.