a deathwish//frerard [COMPLETED]

drown your soul

[two]
Frank was right.

After he had left the small shop, Gerard finished his coffee in about three minutes. He hadn't counted. He pushed the chair out and stood up before walking out.

"Goodbye Gerard." Brendon said, in quite a mutual tone.

"Goodbye Brendon." He replied in a similar way.

Despite him and Brendon knowing each other for a very long time, they hadn't spoken too many times.

Gerard did like to say he had known Brendon for so long, because he knew Brendon, he knew him very well in comparison to Frank, who he did not know, but he only knew his name.

He exited the shop and the breeze touched Gerard's neck, making him shiver. He began to walk.

The sky was darker than when he entered the shop. The sky was low with clouds, almost a storm sky. But Gerard knew there wouldn't be a storm. The sky reflected emotion, just like the moon. The sky was sad, breaking and on the verge of pouring all its feeling out, but then it realises its empty. Nothing but a shell. And so it composes itself, and passes.

He traveled to the place he called his home. On the way he passed a flower, that he wanted to know the name of, so he remembered to search for it once he got back.

He passed through the park, the last sight in his journey home. It was no longer the time of children, but the time for teenagers. All hooded, hiding their faces, softly pushing themselves back and forth on the squeaky swing.

Subtly, he sped up and went through the park, trying to go unnoticed. He had never liked that park.

Once Gerard got home he went to his sofa and sat down. He was very tired despite having just drank coffee.

He had an odd sinking feeling in his stomach, like butterflies but like they were falling. And it was with that, he realised that today, was a sad day.

He fell asleep on his couch and woke up at 11:56. His clock said 11:58 but he knew it was too fast. He needed to change that.

Slowly and lamely, he got up and headed to his dining room. He had a cabinet of alcohol. Wines, beers, champagnes, ciders and just the classic vodka.

He grabbed the bottle and popped off the cap. He bought the rim to his lips. He knew it was dirty, and he hated that. He hated the bacteria that sat on the rim of a bottle and entered his system. But he was sad and nothing mattered.

The liquid tingled on his lips and it slipped down his throat. It burned and stuck to his insides.

One.

And then it wore away. It felt bitter sweet in his mouth. And he took another swipe.

Two.

He walked to his door and slipped on his shoes.

Three.

He left the house and walked down the street, wobbling. The sea. It was close and so he decided to go there.

Four.

The promenade was black beneath his feet, the sea was black, the sky was black, his heart was black, everything was black.

Five.

There wasn't much left in the bottle, and Gerard was already very drunk. It was killing his insides. Absorbing his life.