I'm Not Okay (I Promise) • Geetrick

48

---Gerard---

Knives and pills. Is that really the scene he's going to walk in on?

"Gerard? What are you doing?"

The pills almost drop to the counter and the floor and the sink, but I clasp them in my hand as I spin around to face Frank, a look of shock set on his pale face and his jaw half open in shock and devastation. The only thing I can do is to just step back slightly, tears still running down my cheeks. The only thing I can do is to breakdown into tears and fall to my knees, whispering out, "I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry." The only thing I can do is let the guilt and the pain and the hate and the depression wash over me.

Frank hesitates. I understand why. I did this to myself. I'm the one who didn't break off the fighting and try to reason with him. I'm the one who he hates. I'm the one who could have stopped this. It's my fault. It's all my fault, and now he's gone. I'm left a heartbroken mess on my knees in front of my best friend.

Not to mention my wrists sting...

"Oh my god..." He whispers.

He falls to his knees beside me and hugs me close like it can somehow stop me from hurting myself any further but it's not working. I'm still breaking down my walls one by one and letting the hateful thoughts enter my mind. The thoughts that destroy my emotions, my sanity. The thoughts that not even bravery can stop. The thoughts that pick me apart one by one until I'm splayed open for anyone to manipulate. For anyone to use. To break.

He rubs my back, "Is it Patrick?"

The mention of his name sends my fingers clenching his shirt. His name is like venom, now. I can't hear it without being reminded of all my mistakes I've made with that boy... Green eyes, blonde hair, that fedora, his scars.

"It hurts, Frank... It hurts..." I whimper.

"Shh..." He pulls me closer as his hands reach for his phone in his pocket, "We're going to get everything fixed up, you understand? I'll get him back for you, and you don't have to be sad..."

"No," I say sharply, "Please... he doesn't deserve someone like me..."

"Gerard, stop. You're perfect just the way you are, do you understand? You're the one who's helped him heal, not Pete. You're the one who's always been there for him, not Pete. You're his boyfriend. You're the person he loves. He's the person you love. He's the one who stepped out of line with this. You've done nothing wrong." He sets his phone down, the text sent, "Now let's get you cleaned up, okay?"

I nod softly, my eyes stained with tears. He wipes them away and gives me a small smile, weak and sad but it kind of says, "Things will get better, I promise."

He turns my wrists over, the blood has begun to dry, but they still hurt sting, and itch like crazy. His face pales at the sight, at how deeply I cut. Don't I deserve it? Why is he surprised?

He sighs, frustrated with me.

"Hold this to your cuts, keep the pressure on, okay?" He says, handing me a cloth. I nod softly and obey, wincing slightly as he texts Patrick. He's glaring at his phone, and it's pretty easy to tell he's pissed at Patrick right now. I wouldn't be surprised if he's fucking Pete right now.

He returns to the problem at hand, "Keep applying pressure for another five minutes or so, and we can wrap it up..."

I nod softly, lowering my gaze in shame. I press the wet cloth firmer onto the cut, my tears beginning to run down my cheeks again, Frank only wipes them, "Patrick will be here soon. We'll get everything worked out, okay? You two can be together again..."