The Sharpest Lives

Chapter Two: Picking Up The Broken Pieces

[Frank]

Gerard was seriously messed up.

Last night, I'd been driving through town to get home after being out for a while. It was pretty late, around midnight. I like driving at night, because there're less cars to get in my way and annoy me and also just because I feel calmer and more alert at night. Really, I'm not a morning person.

As I was driving, I noticed a group of guys outside some night-club, all laughing together, a few with bottles in their hands. I could tell straight away that not one of them was anywhere near sober. As I passed, I noticed one of them turn towards the building and throw up all over the front steps and onto his friend's shoes. His friend, however, was too out of it to notice the new puke polish he had staining his shoes.

I sighed, wondering how some people could throw their lives away like that, how they could WANT to do that, how they could ENJOY it. A drink or two on a night out was okay, but getting so drunk that you can't remember your own name is just pathetic.

And then I felt a pain in my chest, so sharp and sudden that swerved a little and almost hit the car next to me.

There was someone I knew who was like this, that I couldn't save, someone too far gone to want to turn back anymore, someone who meant a hell of a lot to me.

Gerard.

I gripped the steering wheel until my knuckles turned white and I grit my teeth to stop the stupid tears coming. It hurt me to see him like that. Every day I saw him, he just got worse and worse. It had started as just something he did to relax or to calm himself down if something had happened that he was finding it hard to deal with. Heck, I did the same. But then he couldn't stop. These drinking buddies of his…they weren't bad people, when they were sober. But no one was stopping him. He wasn't able to stop himself, so why wasn't anyone else doing something?

No…why wasn't I doing something? Why HADN'T I done something?

I hated this. I hated the fact that I was too weak to stop him. Every time I thought about stopping him from reaching for another drink if I was there, I'd make up some excuse not to. I hated seeing him in pain. I hated seeing that he was falling apart because he couldn't deal with it. I just wanted him to be happy…

Even if that basically meant that I was killing him.

I stopped at the lights and took that moment to scream as many curses as I could think of at that point, because I felt so angry with myself and my failure. I knew the poor person in the car beside me probably thought I had serious issues and was complete psycho, but at that point, I couldn't care less. I needed a minute. It was getting a little unbearable.

When the lights changed, I stamped on the accelerator and took off, just wanting to get away from the place. The image of those drunken idiots seemed engraved in my mind and as soon as that image appeared, Gerard's face soon followed in my head. I so badly wanted to see him…would it be that bad if I went to check on him? Who knew what he was doing now? I felt fear and worry grip me as I turned my car around and headed to his apartment. What would I do if he wasn't there? Or what if he was hurt?

My thoughts were entirely consumed by him as I drove. I wasn't sure what I'd do once I got there, but I knew that I'd feel better once I at least saw him. If he wanted to talk to me then that'd be okay too. And if he was too drunk to think straight, then I'd help him.

Because I loved him.

I noticed that I was driving a little too fast, but as long as I didn't get caught, I didn't care. Even if Gerard didn't like me that way, even if everything we did together was just a joke to him for entertainment, that didn't change the fact that I loved him. So, if I did love him like I claimed, then I couldn't sit back and watch any longer. I couldn't stand losing him. I wanted him to come back to me. So badly.