frerard one shots | ✔️

sixty-one ~ burning

The burning in my throat was back. No. No, it was in my arm.

Well, not anymore. Now it was in my entire body. It was spreading through my brain and down my arms and down my chest and worse—leaking into my heart. It was in my heart now.

All thoughts of love and heartache and longingness were gone and now replaced by the burning desire to indulge myself again. There was no other way. Not one other thing that would help me right now at this moment.

Well, actually that's a lie. There was one other thing, but he'd gone with the sunrise. Left a note. "I'll be back when the Gerard I know is."

That was it, that was the fucking note. The bastard knew everything, didn't he? He knew how much I needed him. He knew how much I would give just to have him here with me. He knew that I'd give up my only other true love, the only other thing that had stuck with me this whole time.

And I would if only he'd just fucking stay with me.

I'll be back when the Gerard I know is.

I'll be back when the Gerard I know is.

His words chimed through my head, causing it to throb violently.

Stumbling out of my sweaty bed and into the bathroom, I felt the cool tiles underneath my feet, somehow not helping today, but choosing to side with the pounding in my skull, choosing to side with the burning heat in my body. The AC switched on again and I fell against the wall, sliding down to kneel across from the air vent that pushed the beautiful cool air through.

I'll be back when the Gerard I know is.

I leant forward on my hands, but putting pressure on my arms only made the burning worse. And this time, aching accompanied it. This time, my arm ached as well, spreading splintering cracks of heat and pain up my arm and through my whole body. I cried out and hugged my arms closer to my chest, but the damage had been done.

I wanted it again. It was the only thing that would make me feel better. The only thing that would chase this ache, this pain, this burning heat, this fucking numbness. I wanted, no, craved, no—needed it. It was the only escape.

Well, actually that's a lie. There was one other escape, but he'd left with the sunrise.

I'll be back when the Gerard I know is.

I'll be back when the Gerard I know is.

I screamed, but the words wouldn't fucking leave my head. They were on loop, singing themselves in different tones of his voice, bouncing around the insides of my skull.

So now, I had one other thing to turn to. I looked down at my achy arms, and even though my world was spinning, I saw why he'd left with the sunrise. The old bruises were showing. The small, yellow, week-old bruises. The marks that made me guilty. The ones that made him sick to his stomach even though his arms and chest were covered in tattoos, which were also made by needles.

I shivered at the thought of needles.

My head pounded even harder and I gasped as the burning sensation was replaced by something similar, except wildly different. I was cold. I was cold. I was so fucking cold. I was freezing, my body was shivering violently. A wave of pain soared through my body and a shudder accompanied the shivering. I didn't cry out this time, though. I was getting used to this.

I closed my eyes against all of it. I was getting better. I was. Even though every day was fucking torture and feeling like death and the plague and the flu—even though I felt like my world was being stirred up and tossed around like the grains of sand at the beach, I knew that this was what getting better would take.