Out Of Control

In Which A Whole Rollercoaster Of Emotions Happen.

Gerard's pov

Trigger warning for self harm

"Please don't kill me." I pleaded as I sat on Frank's sofa, my left hand mindlessly picking the loose threads. It was two days after I decided to get absolutely smashed and had to call Frank to collect me. The day previous had consisted of me lying in Frank's bed with a splitting headache and consuming enough water to fill the Atlantic Ocean.

The boy in question handed me a mug of coffee and took a seat next to me, "I'm not gonna kill you." He assured.

"That's a good start. D'ya like my titties?"

Frank snorted slightly in between sips of his coffee, "so why did you end up getting hammered at a house party? Doesn't exactly seem like your style."

"I'm glad to see you think so highly of me." I said sarcastically, "felt depressed, pikachu, shit happens." I explained, slumping further into the plush sofa cushions, determined to hide my blushing face behind the Star Wars mug I was gripping maybe just slightly too tightly.

"That's understandable," he said calmly, sipping from his coffee.

"Fuck the queen, you're not mad?" I asked timidly, worried that he'd burst out yelling at me for being so foolish.

"Why would I be mad?" He questioned, "you can do what you want, I don't think it was particularly wise but I have no room to talk."

"Oh." I said simply. My head shook vigorously side to said and I tried to suppress the feeling in my neck.

"We do need to talk though," he continued and I immediately blushed wondering what I'd actually done that night that was worth talking about. "Do you actually remember anything?"

"Frankie did you see me? I was fucking pissed." I laughed.

"You were, you called the Uber driver the "foundation to our success,"" he said, making air quotes with his free hand, "that's irrelevant at the moment though and I need you to answer the next thing honestly."

My head immediately filled with all the terrible things that I could have possibly done to merit this conversation, my breathing quickened slightly and my chest began to constrict with worry, my head jerk began again although this time I couldn't suppress it.

"Hey it's okay," Frank assured me, placing his hand on mine, I immediately became very conscious of my scars that lurked beneath the sleeve of my hoodie, the new cuts that littered my skin despite my brother's and Frank's attempt at getting me to quit. "I'm sorry, I'm not trying to freak you out."

I nodded weakly, still very panicked, I hugged the mug I was holding to me chest, almost as if I expected it to form some sort of physical barrier between me and the outside world.

Frank placed his mug I'm the coffee table and drew a deep breath before he continued, his eyes darting around the room, begrudged to look me in the eye. "When I got you back to my place the other day you were kinda just spouting nonsense but you said that you'd started self harming again and didn't tell anybody." Frank said quietly, his voice wavering slightly, he swallowed thickly and finally drew his eyes up to meet mine.

His words hung heavy in the air, no noise seemed to reach us, my friend hastily waited for an answer though I suspected he already knew the truth. My palms grew sweaty and I hastily placed the mug down in the coffee table, worried that it would slip out of my grip. I yanked the hand that Frank was holding away from him and rubbed my eyes furiously with the heels of my palm, determined not to start crying.

"I'm sorry," I said brokenly as the first of many tears fell down my cheek, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so stupid, I never should've told you, I'm a fucking idiot." My chest grew infinitely tighter and my loose fitting hoodie felt impossibly restricting, all the external noise that was once present became fuzzy and lost as the noise in my head grew louder and louder.

I alternated between ringing my hands together and aggressively wiping away the tears that fell over my face, my head was a cacophony of noise but the only words playing were "he knows, he knows, he knows, you fucking idiot." On a confusing loop.

My head jerk had grown worse and made my neck burn from the repetitive motion, the sensation of that and the constricting feel of my clothes swarmed my brain like hornets, their sharp stings infiltrating every fold and crease of my brain.

After what felt like a millennia slowly driving myself insane in a panic induced frenzy I was drawn back to earth slightly by the feel of Frank's warm, calloused hands grasping my own, it was at this point I realised I had been repeatedly hitting myself in the side of my head. My temple throbbed from the blunt force and my skin felt uncomfortable, I felt as if I needed to take a very long, very cold shower.

"Hey, Gee, I'm sorry, it's okay, your safe." Frank's comforting voice swam through the fog in my brain, easing the pressure building up in my skull slightly. I looked up at him and noticed his eyes were slightly red, as if he'd been trying not to cry.

"I'm sorry, Frankie." I whispered, my voice cracked and rough from crying, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I tried I swear, I failed, I'm stupid, I just want you to be proud, I'm sorry, I failed." I rambled all but sounding like a madman as I began to tremble again and my heart rate started to quicken yet again.

Frank began rubbing soothing circles on the back of my hands, I made an effort to focus my mind on his movements rather than the aggressive noise threatening to fully consume my brain again.

"It's okay, Gee. I'm not mad, I promise. I could never be mad. I'm so proud of you. I know it's hard but you're trying." He assured me, his voice quiet and gentle.

I suddenly jerked my hands away and wrapped my arms to my chest, trying to protect my cuts from the distraught eyes of my best friend. "You can keep your scars, it'll okay."

He held out his arms, warily as if I'd run away at the slightest movement, which, in fairness, was a safe assumption for him to make.

I wrapped my arms around him, and buried my head into his neck, I drew an unsteady breath as I felt Frank run his strong arms reassuringly up and down my back.

"It's okay, Gee, I'm not mad."

"I love you Frank." I said hoarsely, my shaky voice muffled by the hem of Frank's shirt.

"I love you to, Gee." He responded, his voice sounding almost sorrowful and far away, as if he was pondering a memory he'd rather bury.

A/N weirdly enough I actually enjoyed writing this? Idk it's nice to put my emotions into a story and I definitely did that here. Ew, emotions. Let's bottle those up.

Anywhore, how are y'all? I thrive on comments so, ya know fucking feel free.

Also I type super fucking fast so if I make any errors pls point the out because sometimes I miss them.

Bai Bai duckiez.

^ also idk when/why I started saying that but it's a thing now and my OCD nature won't let me stop ༎ຶ‿༎ຶ

Again, Bai Bai duckiez