Way Wedding

Chaotic Aftermaths, and All of the Noise They Create.

I was awoken the next morning by the sound of him barfing, and as much as I wanted to run to his side and hold his hair out of the line of fire I couldn't muster the strength. I had spent half of the night watching his labored breaths as he slept and murmured things intangible. Then I had spent the over half playing his drunk words over and over again in my head making me grow enraged, depressed, and petrified. Not to mention the fact that I was waiting for the call from my record company complaining about some tumblr kid spreading some serious rumors. If had just been Gerard and I at risk it would be a different story. I would have told the kid to fuck off. I could have brushed her off and kept walking. Or even just turned around and kissed my boyfriend square on the lips. However now there were my three kids and my ex wife that deserved better than some half ass web magazine news story outing me and making a mockery of them. Hell, even Lindsay deserved better than that, no matter how much of a bitch she was. Hearing the strangled dry heaves echoing from the bathroom, I finally gathered the ability to not yell or cry. I felt the ache of sleeplessness set in as I reached the door way catching his weepy tired eyes giving  me the familiar look of guilt that was just enough to melt the thin layer of ice around my heart. Reckless or not he was truly beautiful.

"Shh, Darling." I murmured reaching around him to flush away the reminder of his relapse and using the other to wet a rag with cold water. My body fell beside his in the claustrophobic bathroom, and instinctively my arms wrapped around him. Regardless of the fact that he reeked of liquor and vomit he was still my Gee. My wonderful, and handsome Gee with whom I possessed a million burning questions for, but I bit down on my tongue fighting, the urge to ask. It would only poke a his fuzzy brain, not earn me a serious answer.

"I'm so fucking sorry, baby." he murmured with my chest choking back a broken cry. "I hurt her so much, I yelled at someone that looked up to me; I was such an asshole. then to top it all off I fucking drank." he seethed as if the idea of him and alcohol in the same sentence made his blood boil as much as mine. Secretly I held onto a large portion of resentment about his actions last night and the fact that instead of speaking to me he spoke and danced with his demons. It would have been one thing if I was inexperienced, but I wasn't. We had fought his addictions years ago. I had sat outside his rehab room door listening to him cry and vomit while he went through withdraws. I had held his hands through the night when he wanted to throw away all his progress and snort a line of coke chased by some shots of whiskey or whatever he could get his hands onto. The first time we had been together I was his distraction from meeting up with Bert and getting a fix. A night fueled in an edge if relapse and need. 

"I just need to feel something." he had begged looking at a bottle sitting atop the counter of our bus. I was holding him while the rest of the band was out partying. While even his kid brother couldn't bear the sight of him. Without thinking sentimentally pulled him into me as if we could conjoin into one person so we could be a mixed drink of 2 parts fucked up and one part recovering addict. Then my lips found his and our fight for dominance began there on the floor in front of the bottle he couldn't have. I had always wondered if I was just his replacement for his bad behaviors or actually his savior. To this day I wasn't so sure about that night, about which role I had played. 

"Gerard, honey i'm worried about you." I choked out a selfish sob breaking out of my vivid flashback. Silence was his only answer, but his hands gripped onto the fabric of my shirt as if he let go i'd disappear. "C'mon up we go. Gotta get you showered and in something that doesn't stink." I chuckled wrinkling my nose.  As he showered I made him coffee hoping it would restore a fraction of the Gerard I knew and make it easier to talk to him. I wasn't angry anymore, just hurt. Being angry never did much good with Gee, he was like a child that punished himself before a parent could ever get his hands on him to even begin formulating one.