Alcoholics Anonymous [GW]

Chapter 8.

Emma lets me skip AA the next Sunday, for fear that D will come back for me. I want to see Gerard, though. After what Frank said about Gerard still drinking, I'm worried. Especially about no one knowing the real Gerard. That's not healthy for anyone's relationships-

Since when did I become a therapist.

Emma's working on getting me a new phone. Her parents are rich- they started some technology company together. That's how she got a nice apartment fresh out of college. And it is a nice apartment. There is an open space called the "living room" at the entrance. It's decorated with a conglomeration of ornate collections and modern appliances. The air smells constantly of the Febreeze scent "Pumpkin Spice". At the back of the room, near the bathroom door, is the comfortable blue pull-out couch where I sleep. The bathroom is plain and mainly white, but it has a small window where you can see the skyline in the distance. To the other side of the apartment is Emma's room and office, and left of that is the "kitchen", or two chairs and a table with a microwave and cabinet nearby. The floors are pristine clear tile.

I want to talk to someone, and not Emma- who's at work anyways- and certainly not Father Francis. I run through my short list of friends to no avail. Finally, I pick someone. Ray Toro.

During the few hours Ray and I spent together, we became closer, and we're at the level of friendship where we can tell bad puns to each other and not really care what the other thinks. Honestly, I get worried before I talk to people. But I feel brave today, sand decide to seize the chance.

I rummage through Emma's office to find a yellow pages. I flip it to the "T" section.

Right there.

Toro, Raymond. 384-570-1849

I take a deep breath and dial the number on the home phone. A familiar voice picks up in two rings. "Hey, it's Ray,"

"Hey, Ray," I say, pressing the phone closer to my ear. "Listen, it's Cath. Can you come over?"

Ray says something along the lines of hi, sure, and yeah, I wanted to see you anyways. I give him Emma's address and wait for him to get here.

Ray wears faded blue jeans and a paint-stained white t-shirt, and a huge smile on his face that instantly spreads to mine. "Hey, Cath!" He says enthusiastically. "This is a nice place. Whaddaya want to do?"

I scratch the back of my neck, a nervous tick that I've had from birth. "I actually wanted to talk to you about a thing..."

Ray and I sit down on the couch/bed. He leans forward, attentive.

"Ray, I'm worried about Gerard,"

I don't worry about people. Worrying about people means getting attached to them- and being attached meant someone to lose, and someone else that you're going to hurt when you're dead. I want to die, but I don't want to hurt anyone by my death.

Does that make sense?

Am I making any sense?

I barely know Gerard, and I'm already confessing that I'm worried about him. Maybe I'm letting my guard down, when I really should be putting up walls all around me after the... incident.

Perhaps I'm just desperate to have someone to save me.

Fucking shit. This isn't a princess story, and I don't need some dumbass prince. I can care for myself- now, I don't care for myself, but if I did, I could.

Ray stares at me, and I realize he's asked me a question. "What?" I say softly, blinking fast.

"Do you love him?" Ray repeats.

It's too late to deny it now, but something about him is attractive- and not by his looks, but by the way he likes his pants black and tight and his shirts bright red. Something, I guess, about the way the smell of the coffee and cigarettes mix in his mouth and he breathes out with a smell I don't find so repulsive anymore.

Yes, I love Gerard Way.

"No," I lie aloud. I have major trust issues. "But he's been drinking, and I want-"

Ray looks slightly downcast. "Oh," he says. "There's something you should know about Gerard Way,"

"Oh?"

I'm really beginning to love that word- oh. It's neutral, a perfect balance between light and dark. In saying the word of itself, there's no way that someone can tell what you're thinking, and no one can read you well enough to know what you mean by a plain and simple oh. Everything is in the way you say it- surprised, sad, shocked, and etcetera.

"He likes his coffee black and his hair long. He's petrified of needles, and writes on his skin with Sharpie. He can sketch a person in under 10 seconds, and it will come out better than any of your 10 minute drawings. He has every single Iron Maiden CD and plenty of posters stored away. He likes 90's indie rock bands and modern punk. He never thinks things through, which is almost a gift, because everything he says has come straight from the heart. He was ignored by everyone in high school and believes no one loves him. Clinical depression runs through his family; he's mentally unstable and has a tendency to destroy anyone and anything that gets close to him. But he's not a total dick, Cath. I think you know that, you've seen a sense of chivalry, even if in his twisted mind that means almost slitting someone's throat instead of calling 911.

I may be a idiot loser who prefers guitar to getting good grades and having a backup plan if the whole hey-lets-start-a-band-and-get-famous thing doesn't work out, but I'm not stupid. Gerard just doesn't know that people love him. He doesn't know he is cared about. I barely know you, but you aren't good at getting close to people, you're afraid they'll break you. Did that happen to you before?"

Well, yes. I hesitate and nod.

"Ok. Would you ever be able to get over that fear?"

No. Never again. This conversation is between Ray and I. No way, Gerard. I shake my head.

Ray stares questioningly.

"Even to save a life?"

(should the ship name be Catherard or Gerath? And disclaimer- the number that I put for Ray is a FAKE number, please do not call it. Ok thank God I fixed that chapter. Ily!)