murderer - frerard

[014]

ok !! im here at the beginning of this chapter to thank u all for reading this piece of shit

u may proceed

"Are you going to tell me what happened last night?"

It was morning and I don't think I slept a wink since I woke up with those horrible images in my brain. Not to mention the fact that I was practically scared to fall back asleep, mostly because as much as I hated to admit it, I was still deathly afraid of the man whose arms were wrapped oh-so-comfortingly around my torso, because, let's face it, he was potentially very dangerous.

"I guess so," I muttered, though I really didn't want to talk about it. I guess even though I didn't know Gerard well and he seemed to know me like the back of his own hand, I felt compelled to tell him what was going on. I wouldn't have told even my own goddamned mother, but I was telling Gerard.

"You said it was night terrors," he said softly. "I've never had those."

"I've had them since I was two or three, but I thought they stopped when I was like, eleven," I said, pressing my hands against his firm chest and pushing him away, simply because I was overheating, not because I didn't want his company.

"Tell me?"

"I don't know. I don't remember much about the older ones," I replied, fumbling with a stray piece of hair hanging in front of my eyes. I made a mental note to chop it off the next moment I came in close contact with anything with a sharp edge. "Like last night, they are not tremors, they're worse than tremors; they're these terrors. And it's like - it feels like as if somebody was gripping my throat and squeezing and - sometimes I see flames and sometimes, I see people that I love dying - it makes me not want to sleep and I want to stay up forever and never close my goddamned eyes - I'm not a madman, though, Gerard, I promise."

"I don't think you're mad, Frank." I hadn't heard him say my name in a long time. It felt forced and sharp, like shoving a cactus up your ass. Wow, I really fucking hate metaphors.

"I don't deserve your sympathy," I breathed out.

"I have no sympathy for you," Gerard chimed happily, and it felt strange. No one had been that direct with me in quite a while. I didn't know whether or not to thank him.

We sat in silence for a long time, and I heard the door slam downstairs. I guess Mom was leaving for work.

"I'm sorry," I muttered, burying my face into Gerard's chest, pulling him closer and breathing in his smoky scent. My fingers were still sore from the break as I clutched desperately at his shirttail, but it had been quite a while since I'd broken my hand and the old scabs had disappeared; the scarred pink skin on my knuckles was slowly returning to normal.

"You don't need to feel sorry," he replied softly, and my feeling of resentment toward the man turned to dust and washed away with the tide that came with his heartbeat.

I guess I didn't know where I stood with Gerard. Everything went in circles when I was around him and I wanted desperately to know what he thought of me, because if I was being totally honest, I felt like I wasn't enough for him - I never felt like enough.

Gerard and I weren't close, no, not close at all, but it seemed like he was my only companion other than Ray, who had seemingly abandoned me. However, when I was with Ray, I felt normal. Ray was my best friend who didn't judge me - I knew I could talk to him about any and everything, but I guess that's what defines a friendship.

On the other hand, there was Gerard and I. Everything felt different when I was with him, but perhaps that was because I was simply too aware of him. I didn't think when I was with Ray, but with Gerard, I was careful with my words because I was afraid of stepping out of line.

That vanished when I was sitting with him in my bed, my arms wrapped around his larger body, my body enveloped in his warmth and I felt safe for the first time in what seemed like forever even though I knew that feeling was horribly, utterly wrong.

I didn't want my gut feeling to be wrong. I wanted to trust Gerard. I wanted it so fucking badly; my lungs ached and I knew I should back away. I relinquished my grasp on his shirt and looked him in the eye solidly.

It felt like my insides were fucking collapsing when I made eye contact with him and I sighed, tearing my gaze from his. My stomach was knotting; I clambered out of the bed and walked out the room, leaning against the doorframe and trying desperately to catch my goddamned breath. I didn't remember hyperventilating.

Gerard sat silently on my bed, the comforter pulled up over his crossed legs, his hair tousled into a mess and I knew that trusting that boy was so wrong it was right.

He didn't say anything for a long time. He didn't move.

He watched me from the bed as I struggled to keep my lungs from collapsing in on themselves and I should have been angry at him for not giving a shit about me, but I just just couldn't. After everything else, I couldn't deal with turning cold on him anymore.

So wrong, it's right.

So wrong, it's right.

So wrong, it's right.

oh here we are again i hate myself ha
im supposed to be doing my exams but im playing on my phone so stealthily mmmhm i am good™
also idk if i like this chapter so comment/vote/etc and ill see u guys l8r