Heaven and Hell Start With the Same Letter (Frerard AU)

8

Gerard POV

I sigh, turning over for the millionth time. The darkness is blinding, and all I want right now is to just fall asleep. I kick the blankets off, but then pull them back on again.
I wonder what my mom and him are doing right now. They could be having sex, or at work, or dead for all I know, but it doesn't matter, because I keep trying to imagine them hating their lives, and missing me, but I just can't do it. They left me here, and if they missed me, they'd come back for me.

But they haven't.

I don't care about him, and I shouldn't care about my mom after she chose him over me, even after finding out what he did, but I miss her, and I just want her to hug me and tell me she loves me.

Tears start to well up in my eyes, but I quickly blink them away. I take in a shaky breath, and slowly stand up, careful to not make any noise. Just because I can't sleep doesn't mean Frank shouldn't. He always looks so dead, and tired. It's probably from the nightmares he's always waking up from.

I hate nightmares. I use to get them all the time, and they were horrible. My old therapist, the one I actually liked before I came here, he said they were because of my ptsd.

Sometimes I'm glad I have insomnia, because then I don't have to live through those nightmares, and that says a lot, because after a few days of not getting sleep, your mind tends to play tricks on you, and it's like you are living in a giant nightmare.

Sometimes...sometimes.

I walk over to my drawer and open the very bottom one, taking out a small box. I take out the envelope, and it's shaking slightly in my hands. I turn around, about to walk back when I trip over my shoes, and fall, dropping the box on the ground, creating a loud thud to ring through the the room. Our door swings open, a nurses head peaking through.

"What's going on?", the nurse and Frank ask in unison.

"Sorry, I ugh, I just tripped."

She rolls her eyes and closes the door again. I sigh loudly, and push myself up. I reach for the box, and the lid is slightly hanging off. Great.

"What happened?", he asks, his voice still groggy from sleep.

"Nothing, go back to sleep Frankie.", I say, cupping his face with one hand, while the letter stays securely in my other behind me back.

"What are you holding?", he asks, raising his eyebrow.

I sigh, and drop my hand, sitting back down on my bed. I pull up my legs, hugging them closely to my chest, and pat the space in front of me. He yawns, covering his mouth with his hands before sitting down.

"A few months back, my mom sent me a letter, but I was so mad, I never opened it. I couldn't sleep, and I was just thinking about it, and I just really want to know what she said, but I'm too scared to open it."

He stretches, and takes the envelope.

"How bout I open it, and since it's already open, you might as well read it.", I chuckle, "I don't think that, that's how that works-"

Before I finish the sentence, he hands it back to me, except this time, the back is torn and open. Well he's right, I might as well. I breathe in, and take the piece of paper out. It's folded nicely, and I can still smell her favorite perfume over it.

"She likes to spray her letters with this perfume she has. It's her favorite."

I look up and he has the most gently smile on. I smile back and return my gaze back to the paper. My stiff fingers unfold the paper, and the ink is slightly smudged. She was left handed.

Dear Gerard,
I'm sorry you have to be there, but your father and I think it's the best choice. We know you've been troubled for a long time, and we just want you to get better, and being there will help. We understand that it's a hard time for you right now, but we know that once it's over, you will thank us.
And as for the topic your father and you bring up, well there's nothing much to say. Your father has told me his side of the story, and I listened just like I did with yours, and as you can see, I've chosen him. He's an adult, he's your father, and he's my husband, the love of my life. We think that all of the things you've told us, 'made up', it's all because of your disease, and we don't blame you. Once you get better, you will realize that your father has done nothing wrong. We'll see you when the doctors call.
Love,
Mom

"Are you ok Gerard?", he asks, grabbing my wrist.

I flinch, and push his hand away, so hard that he falls back a little. A hurt look crosses his face. I didn't mean to seem harsh or mean, I'm just so fucking pissed off right now. I mean, how could a mother write this to their own son, their own flesh and blood? And honestly, I've had so much therapy, I've repressed the urges to throw up, or scream every time someone touches me. This is mild, and it's the first time it's happened in while.

"Sorry Frankie, it's just this letter. I hate her, I hate her so much."

I look up, expecting to see his face, but instead, I'm met with the wall across the room. I turn my head and see that he's sitting on his own bed.

"Frankie, I'm sorry. I'm not mad at you, I'm just really upset with this letter. I didn't mean to upset you."

"I'm sorry.", he says, tears falling, and hitting his bare legs.

I read something in one of the books here at the library that people with schizophrenia have paranoia, and I really didn't mean to seem like I was mad at him.

"I'm not mad you Frank, I promise.", I say gently, rubbing his cheek with my thumb.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry...", he keeps repeating, and I suddenly realize he's not talking to me anymore.

I wrap an arm around his shoulder and waist, and pull him into into me, so that we're sitting side by side. He's shaking, and taking short gasps, and I'm running out of ideas.

"Focus on me, focus on my voice.", I whisper into his ear.

I think he might be having a panic attack instead of one of his 'episodes'. I rub his back, and keep talking.

"Frankie, it's me, just listen to me, ok? I love you, I love you so much. Look at your hands, you have five fingers right? Now look at the clock, is it ticking at the right time?"

He nods, "Great. Please don't slip, just focus on what's real. I know you can do it. I won't let them get us. We're in this together, got it? I'm here."

After a few minutes of his restless mind, his breathing starts to ease, and I can feel my heart slowing down too. It's over. I kiss his cheek, and let go slightly, but still keep an arm around his shoulder.

"I love you Gerard."

I smile, and kiss him on the lips.

"C'mon, let's go back to sleep."