Between Chemicals And Romance (A Frerard/Gerbert Fan Fiction)ABANDONDED

Chapter One-Addiction (EDITED AS OF 2018)

~Gerard's P.O.V.~

You know that feeling when you have an idea trapped in the back of your head but it won't show up on paper? When you desperately need an idea but nothing appears? When you try harder and harder to impress people but the idea doesn't come to you? That's how I feel right now. The plain white canvas stands in front of me, asking to be drawn on but my hand won't command the paintbrush what to do. My hand and my mind are mute. In a sea filled with ideas, nothing is standing out to me. No paints can help my pain brush find its way home to the canvas.

I toss my paintbrush aside and slump down onto the sofa. I take a beer bottle off of the coffee table and take a long gulp. The beer tastes disgusting, but I drink it anyways. I kind of like the way the alcohol feels. It makes me feel a lot more detached from reality, and most of the time, I hate reality. Ugh. All I am is a disaster, a fuck up, a freak. Sometimes I just wish I wouldn't stay alone in this apartment rotting away but I deserve it. I try so hard to become an artist that I see myself becoming but in reality, I can't become an artist. Sure, a few people actually like my artwork enough to buy it but I find the work absolute garbage. I don't understand why anyone would actually waste their breath looking at my work let alone buy it. Hell, even most of my stupid comic strips fucking suck.

I tip the beer bottle up but nothing comes out. Damn it! I slam the bottle down onto the table and the glass shatters. I roll my eyes and get up. I walk around the mess and over to the fridge.I move things around, looking for any type of alcohol. Nothing. Fuck! I shove on a pair of beat up converse and snatch my keys off the counter. I run a hand through my black, greasy hair while walking out the door. 

I shove my hands into the pockets of my black hoody. The apartment building is eerily quiet, literally, nobody is around. Which is strange for a Friday afternoon. I waited by the elevator doors as I tapped on the button repeatedly. I looked to the right than to the left. Nobody is in sight. I tapped my foot against the wooden floor, waiting for the elevator to show. I lean against the wall behind me as  I wait for an eternity for this elevator to show up. I should have just taken the stairs.  Finally, the doors opened up. Nobody is on the elevators. Awesome. I got on and hit another button.

The elevator doors close and open again a while after. I walked out into the open and stormed out of the apartment building. The sun casts an orange and pink hue across the sky, the sun still peeking through. My eyes burned, but I ignored it and carried on. Cars drove by the building, one after the other. I walked out of the parking lot and onto the sidewalk. I think this is the only street in this part of Jersey with a freaking sidewalk.

An hour later I wound up in front of the same, familiar liquor store I always go to. I walked in and the door ran a little bell. Bottles waited on shelves ranging from Wine to Vodka. They stood in a neat row next to each other in single file.

"Hey Gerard, back again?" The cashier asked. The cashiers' hair fell down to just above his shoulders in a heap. Ginger strands stood in different directions. A silver name tag caught my attention as the glare from it pierced my eyes.

"Yeah. I just need some more liquor." I speak. The cashier sighed softly and looked up at me with sad eyes. His eyebrows are raised. He looks like a puppy dog.

"Are you sure you want more?" He asks.

"Yeah," I respond.

"Okay." He says. He looks down and starts playing with his name tag. I turned my back towards him and walk down a few aisles. I grabbed a few bottles, cradling them in my arms, and walk back up to the registers.

"You're getting all that?" The cashier spoke. The sun bounced off the name tag and reflected off of the wall. I looked down at the object and it read "Ray."