Frerard Fanfiction - Since I'm Horrible With Goodbyes

Chapter three - Dollhouse

Three months had gone by since Gerard had been sent to therapy for his drug addiction that had been found by his parents. So Gerard started his walk to the small office that had been conveniently placed next to the music store that Gerard spent so much of his time. Of course, Gerard could have taken one of the many cars his family owned, but instead he walked, despite the floods of rain. He walked past the park that he had first learnt to ride his bike. He walked past the restaurant that his father had taken him to have his first drink. He walked past his school, where he had been caught smoking his first cigarette. He walked past the field that he had first been told about drugs and how they could help. He kept walking, refusing to think about the spiral of unfortunate firsts. But nobody could stop him from thinking of the worst first. The first that had gotten him into the therapist mess. The alleyway next to the music store, was approaching, making Gerard start breathing heavily. He had forgotten about the alleyway that connected everything in his town. He plugged in his music, turning it to the highest volume and letting out a sigh of relief as the sudden thump of drums filled his head. He refused to get lost in thought as he started his walk down the alleyway. He kept his head low, not looking at the other side of the alleyway. He knew better.

Luckily, no one seemed to be down there. He kept walking, his head down but not actually looking at the floor. That was probably why he walked into the man that was sat in his way. The man was surrounded by several different coloured blankets, all of them dark, as if to hide away the broken man under them. Gerard only looked at him briefly. He would have guessed the man was a child if it wasn't for the cigarette that was placed between his lips. His eyes sparkled like storm clouds right before lightning hit. Clouds of grey and green and hazel threatened floods and fury while pupils dilated looking at Gerard, eyelashes catching the raindrops. The small man, looked down before Gerard could catch any more of his features. Simply a blur of beauty and dangerously intoxicating eyes. Gerard was taken back, he didn't know what to say. Words kept spiralling around his mind. A hurricane of compliments and blandishments flooding his brain. The small man muttered a "sorry" still refusing to look up. His voice, although small and short, made another hurricane run though Gerard's head, like the aftershock after the earthquake. It wasn't low but it was unmistakably a males. There was a soft croak to it, as if this man was sick, which made Gerard want to cry. There was nothing Gerard could do, he wasn't able to say anything and he was already running late, so he started walking again, refusing to look back.

He arrived at the office where the therapist was waiting for him. Gerard was still in shock, the beautiful man was still playing in his mind. The simply sorry that was muttered, making Gerard's heart flutter. A small smile was placed on his face, something that hadn't happened in years. His session was quick, exactly the same as the last one, with the same questions and the same bored, uncaring look plastered on the therapists face. Gerard didn't want therapy. He didn't want to get better. He would never admit it, but he loved the attention. Not in the way that he liked when people talked about him, he didn't. And not in the way that he wanted people to worry, that's why he kept it a secret. He loved the attention in the way that would have made his mother cry, if she could anymore. He wanted people to actually care, especially his parents. They had spent so long not caring, at least not in private. In public, they were the perfect family. They loved each other and all wanted each other to be happy. They were like dolls, doing what was expected of them. Doing what was considered perfect. But what people didn't see was what happened behind doors. Nobody saw how tired they were of each other. Nobody saw the fights that lasted weeks and ended at the end of a bottle of vodka. Nobody saw the love and trust that had been broken way before any drugs had started. They were simply dolls living in a dollhouse and nobody wants to imagine dolls breaking.