The Sharpest Lives

Chapter Ten: I'd Kill You But Apparently Murder Is Illegal

[Frank]

I sank onto the bed, my legs too weak to support me, and stared at the small pile in front of me. I tried to be horrified, but that part of me that wanted to be angry seemed to have died off. I'd become used to this idea, of Gerard hurting himself, and me being so useless. I'd resigned myself to just feeling blank.

He sat next to me, a ball of nerves, waves of guilt rolling off him, threatening to drown me. His gaze switched from my face to the stack in front of me, to my face again, every few seconds.

"Gerard," I sighed, "Stop it. You're pissing me off."

He froze for a second, then stood abruptly and hovered by my side for an awkward minute, before he shuffled off out of the room.

Now that he was gone, I could take out the pins just barely holding me together and let myself fall apart for a change.

My body crumpled and I fell back onto the bed, eyes closed, trying to shut out what was around me. I tried for a minute to forget what I was here for, what had brought me here, what was causing me to feel like this, like I couldn't hold out any longer.

I couldn't. On the other side of my eyelids, lay a dormant image that pulled itself up and into mind, bringing a picture of the possible future with it. The future where I had continued to be useless. The future where I hadn't been able to save him.

The worst part of it all, was realizing that that future wasn't all too far away.

I pulled my eyes open before the pictures in my head could form anything worse. I couldn't think of worse right now. I had to think of better. I could vaguely remember reading a book about 'the power of positive thinking' and trying to incorporate that thought into everything I did. You know, because you always hear about people saying how wonderful their lives are when they do that, all full of rainbows and unicorn farts. But after a few days of trying it out, I figured too much shit happened in my life to be able to find the positive points. So I pretty much just gave up.

Another stray thought took its turn at centre stage in my head, one that I hadn't really let speak yet since it had appeared. It reminded me of something that I wasn't sure if I wanted to remember.

That moment with Gerard, where he'd held me…his lips softly caressing my throat…the almost-kiss that never was.

That man had a talent when it came to tearing me apart. A terrible, sick talent.

I hated him. I loved him. I couldn't decide.

I'd enjoyed it. I couldn't deny that. I always loved the feeling I got when he gave me his attention, when I could pretend that he wanted me. I never asked to fall in love with him and I'd been wishing for months that I could choose who I fell in love with. But I couldn't choose. I couldn't regret falling in love with him. I couldn't stand living without thinking about him, worrying about him, wondering what I'd do if he wasn't there, the inspiration and best friend that gave me a reason to wake up every morning. I woke up for him. To see him, to be with him. But he'd never care. I was just his way to release some tension, when the booze and the pills weren't enough.

I pulled myself up, frustrated. I wished I could have finished what I'd said earlier. I'd been working up the courage to say it for a while, and just when I'd gotten close to it…

And Matt! What the fuck was Gerard thinking hanging around with Matt? There was a reason why we, as a band, decided it would be better if he left. He caused nothing but misery for all of us. Well, at least, that's what it felt like to me. Maybe things had changed, but I didn't believe that. No, I didn't believe that Matt had changed. He still had the same cocky grin, the same manipulative, pushy attitude that I'd seen when I answered the door. Still an asshat.