Just don't hurt me - Frerard

Chapter 4 - Where Did the Party Go?

Gerard-

Have you ever just sat somewhere and realized how insignificant your presence is? As if you could just leave and no one would care? Everyone dancing around you as you observe their actions and match up who's sleeping with who and who wants to sleep with who. They are all stories with complex chapters but to them you're just another kid with a cup full of cheep beer.

Except its not beer.

And you're not a kid.

It's whiskey. And you're a pathetic twenty-one year old at a high school party listening to a cute boys band play and trying not to let the whiskey take your sanity.

Beer is for pussies.

The whiskey burns in the back of my throat but I keep gulping it down, I need it in my system for later. That's when I'll talk to Frank. I know I'd never be able do it sober.

I would never recommend whiskey as a fun drink. It burns your throat like all the words that you never had the courage to say. Words that after five drinks will come pouring out of your mouth anyway. Plus it has a side effect of loneliness, but I drink it anyway.

Hayley had went off to dance with some guy from the school a while ago. After she left I searched for the good stuff and lucked out when I discovered the liquor cabinet had a shitty lock on it.

That's where I found the whiskey.

After downing a couple cups I ended up in my position to the side of the party watching Pencey Prep play their set. I have to admit they weren't no Misfits but they were pretty damn good.

I took some pictures of Frank on my phone and drank a few more sips. I'd print out the pictures later. Once I got home and sober.

After their set was done I chugged the rest of the bottle down and ran, or stumbled, off to find Frank. I spotted him going out the side door off to the left of the stage. I wonder if he knew that the doors have an automatic lock on them.

I shrug and remember back when I was sixteen. My biggest enemies were my parents and anyone of authority. I had a band called the Hormones. We sung angry songs about the government, chicks, and pizza. Being in the band gave me a huge ego and an alcohol dependency.

We once had a gig here at the place the party was being held. I had gotten locked out of the building before the set after going out for a smoke. I wasn't able to get back into the building and was left pounding on the door until I walked home. The next day the band fired me and I had my first encounter with my black-out rage and broke into the pantry and chugged a whole bottle of vodka.

I woke up in a pool of vomit and broken glass, all because I didn't know about the locks.

As I headed out into the alley Frank had gone into I left the door propped open. Just so Frank wouldn't have the chance to end up with a splitting headache and vodka flavored stomach acid.

My head got fuzzy once I stepped outside and I immediately reached for a cigarette. Grabbing one from my jacket pocket I placed it in my mouth and flicked on the lighter.

"Hey, you got any more of those things?"

I froze. That was Frank. I knew it was. He was asking me for a cigarette?

"...well?" He said.

"Yeah. I've got plenty." My voice was calm but my hands were shaking as I produced another cigarette for Frank. My eyes sweeped the alley trying to find Frank in the darkness. He stepped forward into the light casted by a singular flickering light bulb,

"Here let me light it for you." I grin at him and light the cigarette, holding it out to him.

Our fingers brush together as he grabs the cigarette and the whiskey in my stomach churns.