I'm Not Okay (I Promise) • Geetrick

12

---Patrick---

And just like that it's three more days. Three more days and I'll be in downtown Summit beside Gerard watching The Black Parade. The sound of drums and flutes. Trombones and clarinets. Saxophones and tubas. All of them, filling the silent air with notes and tones. No cars. No distractions. No Dad. No Kevin. No flashbacks. Just me, Gerard, and the city block lined with stone buildings and filthy glass windows that can barely be seen through until someone goes to clean them.

I don't understand how they can do it. How people can just get on an unstable platform, be raised to as tall as a skyscraper and just start cleaning dirty windows. I don't understand how they can be that brave and I can barely take a day of school. It must take a lot of self-control, how much training to they go through? How long do they have to practice? Do you get a college degree for that? Can you get a Nobel Prize for having no fear of heights? What if you fell and ended up a jello splat on the ground? That would be disgusting to watch. How many kids would be scarred from that? And then the next generation of people would never want to work as a window cleaner. So nobody would apply for the job and-

Damn, I can really get lost in thought.

What was my original thought? Um... Oh! Right, The Black Parade.

Three more days and I don't know what I'll do.

What if I say something wrong and he leaves? What if I break down? What if he sees my scars? What if he sees my bruises and cuts? What if I go to the wrong place? What if I get the date wrong? What if I get the time wrong?

I'm scared. No, I'm not scared, I'm nervous. I'm anxious. This is my anxiety.

You're pathetic, Patrick. You can't even go to a stupid parade without having a million worries.

Gerard's at the lunch table eating a sandwich and it looks fucking tempting. So tempting that my stomach growls as I'm watching him. I'm hungry since I haven't eaten since the day before yesterday and I'm actually considering eating today.

No. I'm not talking about Gerard. I'm talking about the sandwich. I mean... He's tempting, too. But I'd never in a million years do anything like that if he didn't want it. I mean-

You know what? I'm food hungry. Not sex hungry. And I want to eat.

You fat pig! What is wrong with you? Do you not want people to like you or something?

No food today, then.

"Hey, kid, are you gonna pay or not?" The lunch lady snaps, dragging my attention from the beautiful boy at the lunch table, in a slightly less commanding voice she asks, "You like him?"

I fluster a little bit at that question as I type in my student ID in the keypad, why would she, of all people, ask me, of all people, something like that? "Y-yeah..."

"You gay, kid?"

"Y-yes, Ma'am." I stutter out. Why am I telling her this? Is that a lie? Why is she asking this? Why is she interested? Is she trying to help me?

"Why haven't you asked him?"

"E-Excuse me, Ma'am?"

"Why haven't you asked him to go out with you? He's gay, too, you know. You don't have to be afraid." She says, her soft arm draped over the cold cash register. It looks uncomfortable, but I don't question it any further. How does she know he's gay?

I hum slightly as I think up the answer to her question, but I reply, my voice untainted by nervousness or worry, "He doesn't deserve me... I think he's too beautiful to me..."