A Rather Destructive Fixation [Frerard]

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A/N: I wrote this as a het story on my old account, but i stopped halfway and deleted it. I have a v exciting plot for this one, and it's probably going to be really sad. [So multiple trigger warnings]

I probably won't update this very often, since It's just to let all my negative emotions out. It'll be very triggering at times. You've been warned.

~~~

June 25th-- 8:26pm

"At first it was just to cope. I thought alcohol would fix everything, make me forget, or... I don't know.I just wanted to lose myself. I didn't want to be myself anymore. I wanted to be gone." 

The room erupted in applause. I hated it. What the fuck was this? That was the most shitty, romanticized version of an alcoholic I've ever seen. She was blonde with clear skin and sparkling blue eyes. She wanted to lose herself? Pfft. If I wanted to lose myself, I would simply take a handful of painkillers and slit my wrists. Then I'd be 'lost'. Well, I wouldn't be lost. Nobody would look for me. Nobody cares about poor, substance-abuser Gerard Way.I laughed quietly to myself.

"Why are you laughing?" Someone whispered from beside me. I was sort of shocked someone heard me, I was really quiet. I glanced towards the voice. It was a boy. He had shoulder-length black hair that was tucked behind his ears. He had hazel-green eyes that were dull and lifeless. He was in full black, like me. He looked my age, maybe younger. 

He didn't belong here. He should be out at some dumb party- or something- right now. He should be with his friends, girlfriend, boyfriend, whatever. It's Friday night. He should be having fun, rather than being stuck in a room filled with depressed alcoholics.

"It's pathetic." I mumbled. 
"What is?" He asked quietly.
"Her sob story." I rolled my eyes. "She's pathetic." 

"Pity is better than fear." He said, moving his head forward and staring straight ahead. I didn't reply. I didn't need pity, sympathy or a sob story. I didn't need anyone. This stupid group couldn't help me.

I zoned out for a while after that; tuning in and out of conversations. I heard some blurbs about concerned family members, relationships, and how to avoid suicidal thoughts, all which I cared nothing about.

I heard the boy beside me start talking, and I was brought back to reality.

"-My dad kicked me out because of my... issue. I'm living with my uncle, but he's fed up with my shit too. So he sent me here." He finished. I wished I tuned in earlier. I wanted to know more about this boy.

Thank you. Now, Gerard." The patronizing coordinator stared at me. I sighed.
"I'm Gerard. I'm an alcoholic." I stated the obvious.
"Okay Gerard, but why did you start drinking?" She asked in her fake, annoyingly calm voice. I shrugged. She sighed. 
"We can't help you if you don't let us understand." She said, gesturing to the whole group. I rolled my eyes.
"Can you at least tell us how many weeks clean of alcohol you are?" She asked.
"Ze-ro." I said, separating the syllables to emphasize how much I really do not give a shit about her, this group, or my health and well-being.

The lady shook her head and went on to the girl sitting beside me; she had half her head died red and the other, black. She was crying. I didn't care, though.

I stood up from my uncomfortable plastic chair and started walking away.

"Gerard? Where are you-" The lady started.

"Bathroom." I cut her off. She scoffed. I cursed under my breath.

I walked outside into the cool summer air and took a deep breath. It was clean air. Ironic, because then I stuck a cigarette in my mouth and lit it, inhaling the smoke.

I leant against the metal-poled fence, and took a long drag of my cigarette. 

"Kill me." I dared the cigarette, laughing to myself once again.

I looked up at the sky, the stars were all out and I bet if I tried to count them, I would always be. There were just so many. I always loved the stars.

"I'm a Scorpio, what about you?" I heard a voice from beside me. I nearly jumped out of my skin.
"Fuck man, you scared the shit out of me." I complained. He shrugged. It was the same boy from inside. 'Pity is better than fear' my ass.
"Aries." I said, rolling my eyes. He looked up at the sky.
"I see it." He said.
"See what?" 
"Aries."

"You're mental." I muttered, going back to my cigarette.

The boy just continued looking at the sky. I continued smoking, we just stood together. It was quite nice, actually. 

Suddenly he reached in his pocket and pulled out a wallet. I watched intently as he opened it and pulled out a cigarette of his own. He shoved his wallet back in his pocket and glanced at me, who was still staring at him.

"Got a light?" He asked. I reached into my pocket and pulled out my silver Zippo, igniting it and pressing it to the cigarette dangling out of the boy's lips. There was something very personal about our interaction; I liked it.

We simply stood, smoking our cigarettes in silence. There was no pressure for conversation. I decided I liked this boy.

"What're you called?" I asked.

"Some call me 'freak', others, 'faggot'." He said calmly. "You?"

"I get 'freak' a lot too. Also 'satanist', 'fuck-up', 'druggie'." I answered. "But that's not what I meant. What's your name?" 

"You should've paid attention." The boy said with a shrug.
"But you know mine, that's not fair." I whined. He laughed. I liked his laugh. I wanted to hear it again.
"Well, life is definitely not fair." He said, his voice ending on a very, very sad note.

~

August 10th -- 3:12pm

"Oh Gee, please lighten up." I heard my mom say. I was sitting in the kitchen, my head down on the table. I lifted my head up and slammed my fist down. 
"No!" I yelled. Mikey, who was across the table from me, looked up from his phone, and my mother stopped cleaning and stared at me. 

"No, I will not lighten up, because you took me away from the one thing that actually made this shit-hole of a life worth living!" I yelled angrily, wanting to punch something.

"Gerard, relax. I did this for you." My mom said warily. 

"For me?" I asked with a slight laugh. Soon that small chuckle had turned into hysterical, crazy laughing. 

"Mikey, leave the room." She said cautiously. Mikey stood up from the table and ran out of the room. Donna Way turned to stare at me, a glare etched into her face. She suddenly slapped me, stopping my laughter.

"If you don't like this, you can leave. Where will you go? You wont. Because no one, no one will take you in. Nobody wants you." She said calmly in a way that terrified me.

He wants me. I wanted to scream it out, he wants me.

But I didn't, because I knew that by now he had probably moved on from me. Everyone does.