Demented

Lazarus

Gerard held on to his pillow, trying to get back to sleep. He woke up early and was frustrated. He was tired and groggy, and his mouth was dry. He created more saliva in his mouth and coughed. Gerard yanked his comforter over his nose. Putting a blanket or a pillow on his nose when it was runny or stuffy always made him feel better for an unknown reason. He often wondered if other people did this to. Gerard decided to ask someone about it today. He wanted to know why though.

Gerard's mind wandered off to the thought of the Zodiac Killer. Who was he? Who was he?! Probably Ted Cruz, he thought to himself. Perhaps, an unknown family member of his was the Zodiac Killer. What if he was the Zodiac Killer?

"I wish I was Ted Bundy," he mumbled out loud. He looked at his clock. It was 7:28 A.M. "Or Michael Myers would be nice." Gerard bit on the left side of his bottom lip and breathed hard. He puckered his lips and let out his breath again.

His room of four and a half years was dark. The purple lava lamp by Andy illuminated the place with purple. Gerard enjoyed the feel the color gave. It aesthetically pleased his senses.

He bit on his blanket a little for no reason whatsoever. Gerard sneezed. He wiggled his nose in discomfort. It was 7:32. "Rebel Rebel" by David Bowie ran through his head. He fell asleep mumbling it.

It was almost 8:30 when he woke up. He yawned and stretched, causing his gray shirt to rise. Gerard sat up and rubbed his pretty eyes. He kicked the blue blankets off and propped himself against the wall. It was still dark.

Soon, there was a knock at the door. "Come in!" he yelled, expecting Abilene. And that's who he got.

"Hi, Gerard," she greeted. Something seemed off...

"Hello."

She gave him his pills and water. Gerard took a sip first. He put the pills in his mouth and rushed them down with cold water. He gave her the cup back. She started with the daily questions. "How does your heart feel? Does it have irregular beating? Does the medicine slow you down? Are you having any trouble breathing? Any pains anywhere? Any strange bumps, rashes, or bruises? His answers were the same for each one: No.

Abilene looked into his eyes. Something was definitely wrong. He could sense it. Her body was tense. Her face appeared drawn. The crow's feet under her eyes were more obvious. Her lips were dry. There was something about Abilene's eyes that threw him off. They looked like they were in pain. Her pupils were dilated. She didn't display the usual comportment expected of someone like herself. They continued to scrutinize each other until Gerard finally spoke up. "What's wrong?"

"I'm so sorry I have to tell you this. I'm so sorry, Gerard."

"What?" he raised an eyebrow.

"Last night, while you were sleeping..." Abilene trailed off.

"What happened?"

"Frank killed himself."

What is she talking about? He didn't do that. Is she being serious? Yes? No?

Garrard looked at her puzzled. It slowly came to him. "Oh? You're not kidding?"

"I wish I was."

"Frank committed suicide?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure?" Gerard asked laughing.

She's lying. That's not like her to kid around like that though.

"Gerard... I'm being serious. We found his body a few hours ago."

"Oh... W-what- how did he do it?" Gerard shifted, appearing vulnerable for just a second.

"He hanged himself with a belt."

"Oh... This isn't a joke, right? Right?"

"It's not." A lot of pain showed on Abilene's face. "I'm so sorry, baby."

"Oh..." Gerard looked conflicted.

What does this mean? She's not kidding. Frank killed himself. He hanged himself! With a belt! She's about to cry, for fuck's sake!

"My boyfriend is dead?"

"Yes."

"So I'm never going to see him again?"

"You won't."

"Oh..."

I can't believe it. I really can't.

"Did Frankie leave a note?"

"No," she answered.

"What am I supposed to do?"

"What do you mean?"

"He's dead. What am I supposed to do when someone dies?"

"Um, well they cry. Or they get mad. I'm not sure what you mean exactly. How do you feel?"

"I feel confused. He's dead..." Gerard said the last sentence with stupefaction.

"Yes."

"I don't get it..."

"What don't you understand?" she asked, wide-eyed.

"I don't know. He's dead."

"Sadly."

"I wish he wasn't..."

Abilene left. Gerard lied down to think. He felt odd. His guts felt tight. His heart felt deaf. Gerard hugged his pillow again. Frank was gone. Forever.

Gerard missed breakfast that morning. But he did go to group therapy. Dr. Bitch delivered the bad news to everyone. "I'm sorry to inform you all that we have lost someone. Frank took his own life last night." She forced the words out in such a way that it was obvious that she was trying not to get emotional.
Everyone seemed shocked. Lindsey covered her mouth. Within seconds, tears fell from her eyes. "I know it's hard to cope with the loss of a friend, but we can pull through. It just takes time." Gerard received looks of sympathy.

Lunch was odd. Frank wasn't with him. Frank was gone. Frank was dead. Gerard ate his sub sandwich in silence. His eyes were glued to the seat next to him. It would be empty forever. The lettuce crunched each and every time his teeth made contact with it. He chewed slowly, feeling time slow down. The sound of a ticking clock ran through his head. That chair would never be warm because of Frank again. It would be cold and haunted.

Everything had changed. That whole first day without him felt so surreal. Every moment, he was expecting Frank to show up. Gerard was so accustomed to his company. The fact that he hadn't kissed him today made him agitated. Where were those lips when he needed them? Those lips were blue.

There was no wind outside. It seemed that there was always wind outside. Frank and Gerard loved the wind. Frank especially loved to rest his head on Gerard's shoulder and watch him draw. Gerard always saw his hair in the corner of his eye. He picked up on how it was vaguely wavy. The younger one would always tap his thighs just for the sake of touching him. All while the wind was boasting about it's chilliness. Frank's hair would be gone soon.

Gerard lied in Frank's bed that night. He picked up on the faint scent of him from the sheets. Frank wouldn't smell like flowers anymore. He smelled like a corpse. Every time he wondered when Frank would join him, he instantly remembered that Frank wasn't breathing. Gerard squinted his eyes and mumbled, "oops." It took him hours to finally fall asleep.

Love is merely a madness and, I tell you, deserves as well a dark house and a whip as madmen do, and the reason why they are not so punished and cured is that the lunacy is so ordinary that the whippers are in love, too. Yet I profess curing it by counsel.
(As You Like It, 3.2)