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

Chapter Four-Hospital Trips and a Back Story

 Bright light entered my closed eye lids. All I saw from underneath my sealed shut eyelids was a bright light. Heat covered my face as I pried open my heavy eye lids and fell out of bed with a thump. I slowly stood up from the hard wood ground and walked over to the door. I looked back behind me at the clock. I sighed to myself and cracked my stiff back by leaning back. That only caused a fresh wave of nausea to flow right through me. Oh no not again.

I stumbled into the bathroom and leaned over the seat, spewing my stomach contents into the toilet. My body ached more than I think it should have. It almost felt as if I was hit by a semi-truck, every bone in my body ached and my toe throbbed. I walked over to the living room and there was a surprise waiting for me. Mikey stood by the coffee table, two fresh cups of coffee laid on top of the table; one untouched the other half empty. Alright, hold on a second. Mikey was there in my living room! After promising I wouldn't drink. Shit. I'm so fucked. He's going to be so disappointed in me. He thought he could trust me. He thought I'll be able to pull threw till today. Oh how he was so wrong. He shouldn’t trust someone like me. I’m just going to give empty promises. Nobody can trust me with anything. Everyone knows that.

I looked down at my feet, staring at the toe I stubbed last night. A dark brown and crimson color appeared on the once pure white wrap. I brought my hand to my mouth and began to gnaw at my fingernails. I looked everywhere but at Mikey, I looked at the horrible painting I put on the wall, the seemingly perfect angles of the door frame and everything else that people wouldn’t define compelling to look at. I can already tell Mikey's disappointed in me, I just know he is. I can feel his disappointed gaze peering into my guilty soul and into my shallow heart. He probably hate's me. He knows I’m a lair.

"Gerard, what happened to your toe?" He asked then sighed. He probably already knows I've been drinking. But at least I was with Bert. Oh shit! Bert! He never called me last night! I began to bite my nails more, almost ripping off an entire nail. What if he didn’t get home okay?

"I bumped it into something." I huffed, sounding more angry than nervous. I crossed my arms over my chest and finally brought my gaze to Mikey. He didn't look disappointed, he looked fearful. He looked as if I were some sort of monster in a horror game out to get him. If he doesn’t run away fast enough, I’ll get him and kill him. I hate seeing my little brother like this. Seeing him like this tears me apart like something digging its claws into my chest and ripping out my heart.

"Let me see it." He demanded. He sounded like a robot, speaking in monotone and demanding me to do things.

"Mike, I don't think that's a good idea." I spoke quietly, saying it just under my breath. He would be disgusted if he looked at it.

"You know what Gerard, what isn't a good idea is fucking drinking away your problems. You need your money for your rent not for fucking poison. I come here every week, make you promise me not to drink yet at the end of every fucking week I come back here and find out that you broke your promise. I swear to god Gerard, if this happens again, you're going to rehab!" Mikey yelled. A pang of guilt hit me, making me come to realizations that I let him down more than once. I let him down all those times, every single one of them. All this time, for so many years, I let him down. I let my little brother down. I'm supposed to be the person that he looks up to however I let him down. I'll keep on saying that, reminding me of what a horrible brother I am. I broke our promises. Every. Single. One. They were all empty promises. All of them were. I let him down for good and there's no way I can fix it. I deserve to die.

"I'm.....sorry." I spoke, my voice cracking slightly. I can feel all the regret enter my throat, blocking my ability to breathe. Can’t this guilt go away? The “poison” makes the guilt go away and makes it easier to breathe but it also causes harm to my brother. It’s either feel this much regret and guilt forever as long as I’m pleasing Mikey, or drink and all the pain will go away unless I’m sober. Why do I have to be stuck in a situation like this? These suggestions are going to kill me because it’s like I could be depressed forever with each option I’m giving myself. One option is to do something that will benefit Mikey, the other benefit myself. But in the end we all know alcohol will kill you if it’s abused. At the same time, I want to die. There’s no way out.

"Gerard, look," Mikey started with his poker face, "I love you to death. You're my brother! It's just that sometimes, seeing you like this really well......rips me to pieces. I didn't mean to say all that. But I think you do need to do something. Let me see your toe just in case we need to take you to the doctor."

"Fine," I gave up fighting. I’ll just agree to everything. Maybe if I do that, he’ll get off my back and leave me the fuck alone. He just needs to stop and let me die in piece.

I sat down on a chair and unwrapped the fabric from the toe slowly. The wrapping covered up a pretty bad toe, obviously. The toe seemed to be split open, blood still appearing to be coming out of the wound, or maybe the scab reopened. If I was bleeding for this long, I wouldn’t be alive; at least I don’t think so. Shit! How come I couldn’t die? I just want to fucking die. I just want to die. Can’t Mikey see that? Can’t he just leave me alone?

"Gerard," Mikey started, "You need to get stitches."

"No. I really don't." I spoke back. No way in hell am I going to the hospital. Please die there, there's no room for me. I can give myself stitches I will not go to the hospital. People get fucking needles in a hospital. There’s no way in absolute hell I’ll go there without putting up a fight.

"Gerard, you're going to the hospital. You need stitches." Mikey said again, with more emphasis on 'need'.

“No, Mikey! Please. Don’t make me go there. I don’t like hospitals. Please Mikey.” I pleaded. I really don’t want to go to a hospital. I really, really don’t want to go.