My Injuries, Your Injuries (Completed)

Chapter 26

omF i'm exCIteD yES i hAVe an IdeA! *scREAmS*

best idea evER yes read to find out.

xoCrashFire

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I run up to Gerard's room and open his his door, cautiously peeking in, wanting to see how Gerard is. He hasn't hurt himself, that's a good thing.

"Why do people hate me so much?" he asks, making me jump. I haven't seen him yet, so my head snaps to the left, where I find him in the corner, leaning against his dresser, blade in hand.

"Gerard, please, don't." I take slow steps toward him, not wanting to set him off or anything.

"People have always hated me you know. Even for things that weren't true. In middle school everyone just assumed I self harmed, when I didn't. They'd call me emo and tell me to cut deeper. In high school, they called me a faggot and accused me of fucking our gay music teacher. In high school, I swore I wasn't gay, I didn't accept my sexuality until only a little while ago." He sits on the floor, digging the edge of the blade into his wrist, making blood rise slightly. It isn't much, but that doesn't mean he won't try to do worse. "They always picked on, it was amusing to them. They thought it was funny to watch me become less than what I was. They would laugh when I got paler, they would make fun of my stringy, greasy hair. They would tell me to wipe my make up off when I got dark rings around my eyes from lack of sleep. They never stopped. They carried it to college." More blood is rising and it's honestly scaring me, I don't want him to try anything.

"Gerard, don't listen to other people. They only do that to make themselves feel higher than you. The-"

"No!" He shouts, getting up and walking towards me. "No, I'm so tired of people saying that! Don't try to feed me that bullshit, Frank. You know damn well it's just a lie made to make people feel better." He shouts some more, jabbing my cheek with the razor, as emphasis, when he says 'you'.

I feel blood come out if the little cut the piece of ungodly metal caused. I hold my hand over it and feel blood stain my palm. "Gerard, give me the blade."

"No," he says defiantly, acting like a child.

"Please, don't hurt yourself over this. My mom is just a bitch who hates difference. Please, just because she doesn't accept you doesn't mean you have to hurt yourself," I say, trying to ease him into it.

"Did you not hear the shit she said? Put yourself in my shoes. This is what I live for, it's my routine. I hurt myself to cover the pain others cause me. You can try to help me all you want, but old habits die hard. Good luck," he mutters, then drags the blade diagonally up his forearm, causing an ugly laceration to form on both mine and his arms.

I try cover the wound with my hand, but it's much larger than my hand can cover and bleeds around my fingers, dripping to the carpet.

"Gerard..." I whisper, just watching him stare at the wound, actually looking shocked with himself.

"I-I didn't mean to," he says, his eyes wide. "I'm sorry."

"Come on," I say, grabbing his hand and pulling him along. I walk out of the room and pull him to the bathroom. I tell him to keep his arm over the sink and dig through the cabinet, looking for something, anything.

I find a bottle of peroxide, wash cloths and some gauze. This will do.

I turn around and he looks at me with wide eyes, shaking his head, "No. No, not peroxide."

"Gerard, it has to be done, there's not anything else in here to clean it." I set everything down on the counter and look at his arm, looking at the whole thing for the first time. It's pretty deep and I know Gerard will refuse to get stitches, so I'm just going to have to deal.

I grab the bottle of peroxide, twisting off the lid with one hand and picking it up, letting the lid tumble to the counter and land in the sink.

I pour the peroxide on his arm and he hisses in pain, and I feel it too. His blood thins as it mixes with the peroxide and runs down his arm. I set the peroxide down and grab the wash cloth, holding it a part of the cut, drying it off and getting the blood off.

"Frank, stop," Gerard says through gritted teeth, squirming around and trying to pull his arm out of my grip.

"Stop squirming, you're making it worse." I hold his wrist tightly and try to hold his arm still so I don't make it any worse from his squirming.

"It hurts," he whines, throwing his head back and bouncing around on the balls of his feet.

"If you don't stop, I can't get it clean, and then you'll get an infection. Just let me clean it," I say forcefully. "The hospitals would make this feel ten times worse," I mumble.

He stops, huffing out a breath and just watching, hissing in pain every once in a while. After I get all the blood off and I can see the deepness of the wound, I look at it for a minute. He slashed right through the word 'stranger' and up a little more. It isn't as deep as I thought it would be, but it's still deep.

I wrap it up and move to fix up my own, wiping up the blood and dealing with the pain, unlike Gerard. I finish with mine in under half the time it took to do Gerard's.

I put all the stuff away and get ready to scrub the blood from my hands, when my phone starts to go off in my pocket. I answer it, "Yes?"

"Frank, you need to come home. I'm sorry about how I've been acting, I've just been stressed and I'm sorry," My mom says, sighing after the explanation.

"I need to stay here, with Gerard, something happened and he just, I don't want him being alone. It isn't safe," I say, ready to end the call and just see her tomorrow after I come home from school.

"Okay, that's good. I'm glad you care about him." It honestly sounds like she's forcing herself to say it, but I ignore it as she goes on, catching my attention. "Your father and I have been talking, and we want to meet the rest of the family. We've met Mikey, but we want to get to know Gerard and their parents."

"Parent," I say bitterly.

"What?" She asks, sounding really confused.

"Parent. It's only Donna, just their mom," I explain bluntly.

"Oh, well... how about dinner on Friday evening? I think it'll be nice."

"Sure, yeah, whatever." I hang up the phone and immediately get upset. Friday was when Gerard said he would take me out. Now that's ruined.

"What's up?" Gerard asks from the doorway, crossing his pale arms and studying me.

"My mom called and decided that it'd be a great idea to invite you, Mikey and Donna over for dinner on Friday," I say while turning on the water and pouring a mound of soap in my palm to scrub the stains off my flesh.

"Wait. This Friday? That was when I was supposed to take you out. Dammit," he mutters. He stomps his foot and shoves his body roughly against the doorway in protest. "That isn't fair."

"It's fine, we'll just go on Saturday," I say, turning off the water and drying my hands. The stains aren't completely out, but it isn't as noticeable.

He nods and pulls me along to his bedroom. "You know, you've been spending the night since Friday. If I would have known we would have been moving this fast, I would've come a little more prepared."

"That's not funny," I say, trying to hold back a smile. I just hope he was kidding.

*~*~*~*~*

Please read, you will laugh your ass off. (and the thing I was excited about was his mom inviting them for dinner)

Okay, so, I was in biology and someone asked this guy if he wrote his name on his paper and he replied with, "No. I inscripted it in ancient Egyptian hieroglyphics and smeared my blood on it to ensure an A plus."

I died.

okay! so ily guys so much! you're reviews and comments are great and I'd like to thank a wonderful reader @daisy_ashes for writing about me and complimenting my writing and ^-^ it was so nice!

xoCrashFire