Stockholm Syndrome (Frerard)

13: Demolition

(A/N: this is probably gonna get marked as private aw man -Dylan)
Media: Frank waiting.

It's been two days now. I don't know if he would've wanted it, but I slept in his bed both times, engulfed in his scent the whole night through. If it wasn't for that, I probably wouldn't have slept at all.

Yesterday I decided to distract myself from all the intrusive thoughts about Gerard by cutting my hair. I know the whole point of cutting my hair in the first place was to hide, but I needed something to take my mind off him for at least a little while. I'm probably gonna have to go back to my dad and apologize for leaving and turning emo. I had cut the sides off completely, so much that you couldn't even tell I had curly hair anymore since most of the curls were on the sides anyways. And I don't mean I cut it short. I basically shaved it.

I'd been cutting my own hair for years so I knew what I was doing, and it didn't look half bad. The top and back were still long, falling in sort of a flat faux hawk kind of thing. There was this one stupidly intrusive curl though, and it was in the front. My bangs were pretty long still, and at the very end of my fringe, it curled in. It didn't look bad per say, it just pissed me off because everything else was mostly straight. My hair was still brown though, I couldn't find any gloves to dye it.

I thought about piercing my lip too. I almost did it, but I freaked out and decided not to. I only wanted to do it out of self destruction and that's not the most healthy thing ever so I decided against it. There was also the fact that I was a pansy. We had gotten a piercing needle and a few rings when we went out the other day, so I knew it was supposed to happen eventually, but I wasn't so sure anymore because there was a very small chance that Gerard was coming back.

As soon as his name came into my mind, I decided I needed to do something again. I didn't want to think about him. I didn't want to think about the fact that he probably wasn't coming back. I looked at the plastic bag full of dye, and decided I was gonna do it whether I had gloves or not.

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It didn't look bad, I just wasn't used to it. It would grow on me.

I had bleached the centimeter-long hair on the sides of my head and dyed the rest black. On anyone else, it would've looked good. I just feel really bald. It was like slim shady went emo. I sighed, staring at myself in the mirror, running my hands through the long dark strands. It would grow on me.

I turned away from the mirror, walking out into the hallway again. It was getting late. I had dyed my hair quite a few hours ago, and had been doing fuck-all since then. It wasn't super late, but it was late enough to go to bed. Anything to get him off my mind.

I turned into Gerard's room, feeling a pang of something as the four walls took me in. I didn't know what it was. Sadness, sorrow, guilt maybe. Could be fear. Whatever it was, I didn't want to feel it. I shut the bedroom door, got into the bed, wrapped myself in his blankets that were infused with his scent, pulling them up to my nose and snuggling in. I turned around in the bed and looked at the empty space where a warm body could have been. Too bad there wasn't. I stretched an arm forwards and placed my hand flat on the abandoned dark red sheets, feeling nothing but a lonely cool piece of linen. I sighed again and closed my eyes, trying to force sleep upon myself. I must've laid there with my eyes closed for hours. Not sleeping, just being dead.

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"Frank," A voice called out, tearing me from my restless sleep. my head shot up, the sunlight through the blinds instantly blinding me when I opened my eyes. I strained, listening again. I could've sworn I heard Gerard. Then again, I was delusional. I could've dreamt it.