Chapter Text
"If you don't stop that, I'm going to give you a reason to cry." Gerard looked up into his mother's exasperrated eyes. He reached up and touched his cheeks, only to find that he was crying again. He made a frustrated noise. 'How am I supposed to help how I feel?' he thought to himself as he muttered an apology to his mother and fled downstairs to his basement room.
That was one of the things he had always fought with his mother about. He could practically hear her voice, 'You don't have anything to be depressed about. If you really understood yourself, you wouldn't be a cutter. What's your problem this time?' He cranked up his stereo and huddled into his sheets. It wasn't his fault that he was sad. It wasn't his fault that the only way to feel normal again was to slice himself open and let all the bad drain out with the blood.
But they wouldn't ever get that. They wouldn't get that it was an addiction. That every time he tried to stop his arm got itchy and he was cranky and sad and everything took on a blue tint.
They just pushed him to 'keep clean' and 'keep up his education' and 'chase his dreams'. He gave up on dreams long ago, when they laughed and talked to him like they were humoring a child. 'Yeah, I'm sure you could go somewhere with your art and keep yourself stable. Okay.' 'Yeah, sure, you can make music to help people. You've done such a great job helping yourself.' All the doubts came flooding back from where he pushed them away.
What was the point? Who would even care if he was gone? His family clearly hated him. They knew he was useless and headed for nowhere, even his little brother. Mikey had never said things like that to Gerard, but he was sure he said things like that to his friends. He looked around for his bag. The most important bag he owned. Two weeks clean, his brain whispered. are you really going to throw that away? Maybe you are useless. Gee couldn't even figure out a reason to stick around in his own head. How pathetic was that?
He pulled out the tiny, sharp blade. He remembered pulling it out from his worst pencil sharpener. He hadn't thought it would slice so well. The fine lines bled better than the stupid safety razor marks had. He began to slice, slowly downwards. Gerard recalled something he read on Tumblr about how slicing vertically was more likely to kill you. He didn't even care anymore. He cut from the top of his wrist all the way to the crook in his elbow, on both arms, and waited.
Ten minutes later, he was still conscious and waiting. Guess I didn't go deep enough, he thought. Oh well, there would be a next time. He pulled one of the boxes of band-aids from the bag and bandaged his arms. Five band-aids did the trick, and he pulled on an old sweatshirt. If his mom saw, she would make good on her promise to lock him in an institution. He just knew it.
Gerard heard the front door open and four sets of footsteps begin to make their ways towards the basement steps. He quickly cleaned up the blood on the blade and stuck it back in the bag. The bag went to its place underneath the false bottom of his bedside table's drawer and he threw himself at the desk and flipped his sketchbook open to an unfinished sketch. He made himself look like he had been working on the dragon when the door swung open. He twisted in his chair and made a face at his friends.
"What if I had been naked?" Gerard asked as Mikey, Ray, Bob and Frank filed into his room. Bob and Ray took the moon-chairs in the corners and Mikey came straight to Gerard. Frank flopped down on the bed.
"Why would you be naked? You never shower." Mikey scoffed. Gerard saw Frank glance down at the sheets and freeze. Fuck. Gerard had forgotten about the blood he left on the sheets. Frank unfroze and looked up at Gerard, eyes wide. His face relaxed and he scooted to cover the stain with his legs. Gerard just knew that they would be talking about it when the others eventually left, even if he had to wait all night.
"It's the principle of the thing." Gerard mumbled. He was in serious shit.
'Whatever," Bob rumbled. 'We want to watch a movie, not a debate on ethics." Ray giggled. Gerard rolled his eyes and moved over to the bed. He plopped next to Frank.
"Put a movie in." He commanded Mikey. Mikey rolled his eyes and scooted on the floor to the DVD player. He popped in The Exorcist and sat in the chair Gerard had vacated. Frank grabbed Gerard's arm. Gee winced.
"We're going to get snacks." Frank announced. He nonchalantly covered up the stain and pulled Gerard out of the room and up the stairs. Gerard glanced around nervously for his mom but only found a note on the fridge about her going down to the church. Frank turned to him.
"Seriously dude, what the fuck is going on with you?" Gerard couldn't meet his eyes. "You've been quiet, and you don't leave your room, and you're cutting again. I thought we talked about this. You're supposed to call me." Frank's tone was calm, but Gerard knew there was a storm brewing. He was disappointed. He hated disappointing Frank more than anything.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to relapse. I just...I lost it. I'm sorry." Gerard was practically whispering. Frank's face softened.
"It's okay to relapse, Gee. It's expected. As long as you get up and try again. And for fuck's sake, call me. You know my phone is always on!" He grabbed Gerard's chin and made him look up. "Chin up, Gee. It'll get better. You just have to let it." Gerard's eyes filled with tears. He lunged forward and hugged Frank tightly. They stood there until Gerard stopped sniffling. "Come on, let's get some snacks and go back before the guys get all suspicious."
"You won't tell them? Not even Mikey?" Gerard whimpered.
"Not a soul." Frank winked and grabbed a bag of chips. Gerard grabbed some sodas and they tromped downstairs.
"What even took so long? You girls done gossiping?" Bob fussed over the movie.
"Maybe they braided hair," Ray contributed, taking the soda from Gee. Frank played with his mohawk.
"Yeah, no. My hair isn't long enough, and Gee's isn't even clean enough." He plopped down on the beside Gerard and opened the chips. "Just for that, you fuckers aren't getting my chips!"
"Your chips?" Mikey questioned as he glanced over at Frank. "You don't even technically live here."
"Shut up. Movie." Bob commanded, and everyone obeyed. Gerard snuggled down onto Frank's bony-ass shoulder and closed his eyes. Maybe this would be his last relapse.