When Both Our Cars Collide (Frerard)

1: Come on and feel that shame

Yay I got the first chapter up already! It is 3am, and I should really be asleep, but this fanfic won't let me, so here is the next chapter!

Let me know what you think, I haven't written any Frerard in a while, so I am a little rusty.

*slight trigger warning*

Eight years ago...

I stared into the dirty mirror hanging on my bathroom wall, grimacing at the reflection that gazed back at me. My greasy black hair hung in my face, and my skin looked sallow and unhealthy. For a brief moment, I had the rash desire to punch the glass so I wouldn't be forced to look at myself anymore, but my mother's presence in the house stopped me.

Still - I couldn't help but imagine it; the shards would clatter to the floor loudly, pieces would stick in my hand and make me bleed, and I wanted that - I wanted to hurt.

I knew these thoughts weren't normal, but they were my reality, and I had become used to them. I hated myself, and being face to face with my own image was intensifying the feeling immensely.

I hadn't considered asking for help with these feelings because I didn't want Mikey and my mother to know how fucked up I truly was, and I was managing - mostly.

I felt pathetic; I constantly resided in a state of depression. I was seventeen years old with basically no friends, and loneliness was my only companion.

I honestly didn't know why I felt this way. I knew I could have it so much worse; I had a loving family, an amazing little brother, a roof over my head, and I should have been thankful for what I had, but I was just stagnating...I felt alone, even when I was surrounded with people, and I had lost all hope.

I drank and smoked because I didn't give a shit about the vile substances that I was pumping through my body, and it helped me make it through each day.

I was bullied constantly at school because I was the "emo" kid and I was an easy target; I didn't even try to look that way, but my mostly black wardrobe had earned me that title apparently. I guess at some stage, all of their insults had sunk in, until it reached the point where I loathed myself.

My family never noticed, and I didn't want them to. They just thought I was quiet and secluded, they never imagined that I was slowly dying inside.

I finished getting ready with a heavy sigh; my mother was dragging me next door to meet the new neighbors, and I was less than enthusiastic to say the least. Usually she brought Mikey to this sort of thing, but he was at a track meet or something like that. Even though I detested sports with all of my being, I almost wished I had some sports related thing to save me from this.

I walked downstairs and followed my mother out the door without a word, and we made the short walk to the house next door in silence. She knew I was brooding about being forced into this, so she made no attempt to speak to me on the way over, which I was grateful for.

I dug my hands into my worn black hoodie and tried to hide behind my mother as she rang the doorbell. A friendly looking dark haired woman opened the door and smiled down at us.

"Hi there - you must be Linda. I am Donna, your next door neighbor, and this is my son Gerard." My mother held out the decorative basket full of whatever shit neighbors give to each other with a broad grin plastered on her face.

"Oh - how kind of you. Come in please, I was just making lunch. My son Frank would love to meet you Gerard." I put on my sulkiest face, but my mother ignored it and shoved me inside against my will.

"Frank is just upstairs unpacking his room. Why don't you go on up and say hello, and I will call you when lunch is ready."

I sent my mom a pleading look, which she easily ignored, and I was left with no choice except to trudge up the stairs as slowly as possible. I hated meeting new people; I got so shy and awkward, which inevitably led to me making a fool of myself, and said person never talking to me again.