Song fics

Hate Me- Frerard

Warnings for drinking and suicidal thoughts.

Not a happy fic. Sorry.

Play the song.

Gerard's P.O.V.

I gripped the steering wheel tigher, trying not to let the tears fall. I can't stop thinking about him. His eyes, his voice, his hands when he would touch me in just the right place. Unbidden, images came to my head.

He kneeled over me, his weight pressing me into the mattress. His lips attacked my neck, and I let out a moan.

"Frankie-!"

I couldn't go back. But what was I going to without him? The tears in my eyes broke free. It's not fair on him for me to stay. He can't want me to stay, either. If he wants me to stay, I'll have no way to say no.

This has to be abrupt. He has to be angry and upset, for his own good. I always sucked him into my problems, and he doesn't need that.

I flicked on my signal as I merged into the right lane.

-_-_-_-_-

I stopped at a gas station when the need to go to the washroom became too strong. As I stood in the lineup for the single stall bathroom, I glanced over at the cases of beer on the bottom of the shelf next to me. I once thought of those as my only reason for living, as an escape, or a quick fix. Frank hated when I drank.

I looked blearily at his face.

"Franksie! You have a mustache!"

He seemed confused, though it was hard to tell. I pushed the inside corners of his eyebrows up.

"Don't frown, Frankerino! It gives you wrinkles."

He pushed my hands away and led me into the washroom, his hands around my waist.

"Let's get you cleaned up." He sighed.

Looking back, he's really the only reason I survived at all. Whenever I wasn't drunk beyond rational thought, I hated myself. I told Frank, so many times. He always listened without judgement, and helped me to feel better to the best of his ability.

The words rocketed through my head.

Useless. Worthless. Better off dead.

Frank found me curled into a ball in the corner.

"Gee? What's going on?"

I looked up at him.

"Why do you put up with me?" I asked.

Frank sat down next to me, wrapping an arm around my back.

"Because you're beautiful, and wonderful and kind. You treat everyone around you with respect, and I love you." He answered.

"That isn't true. At all."

"It is. Even if it wasn't, I would still love you with everything I have."

Frank always gave everything to help me. He never faltered, even once. But I never helped him, and that isn't fair. I have to leave. I just hope Mikey will let me stay with him. I squinted into the rising sun as I passed a large beige van.

I really hope Frank takes some time to take care of himself. Maybe he could find some better friends, or another partner that actually supports him back. The tears were back in my eyes at that thought. I hope he forgets me. I had to pull over onto the gravel on the side of the road before I crumpled in on myself.

The day I realized that I had to leave was arguably one of the worst days of my life. I had brought home pizza, because I thought maybe Frank would want a break from cooking. I took off my shoes and set the pizza on the counter. I was about to call out for him when I heard the sobbing. I headed towards it, finding Frank crying on our bed.

"Frank? Frank! What's wrong?" I had never seen him cry before.

He whimpered and looked away.

I crawled over to him, gently turning his face toward me.

"Frankie, what's made you upset?"

He shook his head.

"Frank, I love you and-,"

At that, Frank cried harder.

"How can you say that?" He said.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"You always come home drunk, even though you know I hate it. You won't take your meds, even though you know it would help you. You do things you know I hate, because you feel like it. So how can you say you love me?" He said through his tears. During his speech, I had started to cry too. I hugged him close, running my fingers through his hair.

"I'm sorry, Frank. I'm so, so sorry." I murmured over and over again.

I packed up my things and left the next weekend, while he was at work on the night shift. The only explanation I left was in the form of a note I put on the counter. It read:

I'm sorry. I love you too much to stay. I'm hurting you. Please don't try to call. I changed my phone number. I'm so, so sorry.
-Gee.

I didn't really change my phone number, but I thought it was best for him to think so. I couldn't ever talk to him again. Even though I said I had changed my number, Frank still called. I had to pull over as I listened to his voicemail.

"Gee? Please come back. Whatever this is, we can work it out. I know you didn't change your number, I texted you from work. I love you. Please, Gee, come back home. I love you."

I listened to his voicemail on repeat, as I broke down on the side of the highway for the second time this morning.

-_-_-_-_-

Sorry.