Welcome Home, You Fantastic Bastard (Frerard)

7 - Confrontation

With my prescription painkillers that Gerard had picked up for me at the pharmacy, it wasn't too long before I gotten used to my broken leg. Sure, things were certainly a bit trickier with really only one leg to rely on, but I got used to using the crutches I was given in no time. And of course, Gerard was always by my side when needed.

For weeks, Gerard and I just lounged around the house rewatching old movies, playing games and relaxing. Occasionally we went out to do stuff, but I wasn't a huge fan of having to maneuver in and out of a car with crutches, and Gerard usually had to work during the day anyway.

Most of the week, I was bored out of my mind. Without Gerard around, I realized I was kind of pathetic. I hadn't talked to any of my other friends in over 3 years now thanks to my unexpected trip to prison, and all my good friends that I had met there were still serving their time. Anyone else from there I hoped I'd never run into again. Especially the other prisoners that whispered death threats or sexual comments into my ears as I walked by... but I doubted any of them would even recognize my face by now thankfully.

So, I had to find other ways to entertain myself rather than socializing. It definitely shouldn't have been too hard considering I had been much more bored while sitting around prison yards and my cell. Still, I found it a bit difficult to remember my old hobbies.

One day while Gerard was busy at work, I went into our bedroom closet and starting digging around. Most of the stuff shoved in their belonged to me. I assumed Gerard tossed it all in there when he was initially infuriated with me. By now he probably just forgot about it.

Most of it didn't interest me all too much anymore. There were a lot of old books, a skateboard, video games, and other junk that I was positive I'd never touch again. However, all the way in the back, I found a prized possession that made my eyes light up with joy when I spotted it.

Bringing it out into the light and wiping all the dust off, I examined my old, yet still gorgeous electric guitar. She was my pride and joy. I treasured her with all my heart and I was beyond glad at that moment that Gerard hadn't pitched it out of an act of revenge. Sitting down on our bed, I studied the jet-black exterior and stunning details. I couldn't wait to play her again.

I quickly got to tuning it back up and began to pluck the strings. I was pretty shaky at first- I hadn't picked up a guitar in three years after all, but once I got back into the swings of things, I found myself playing all the familiar songs I had learned before fairly decently.

By the time Gerard returned home for the day, I had retaught myself how to play a song I had written just for him. It was a love song that I had wrote and planned to play on the day I was going to propose to him, but that obviously went down the drain when they hauled my ass away.

Maybe I could play it for him now. Gerard always did love music, and he loved it even more when I played it live for him on my guitar.

So, as soon as he walked in, he cocked his head at the sight of me with the guitar, but instantly smiled when I began to play the unfamiliar tune. As I played, he made his way over to the bed and sat alongside me, his eyes following my fingers as they moved up and down the fretboard.

Sadly, I had forgotten all the words I had written to go along with the melody, which I knew I had written down somewhere, but I didn't have a clue as to where those were. Luckily, Gerard seemed satisfied with just the guitar involved in the song.

It was somewhat brief, but nonetheless, Gerard still applauded playfully when the music ceased, "That was beautiful," he complimented. "What's it called?"

I contemplated that for a moment, but couldn't think of an answer to that question. I'm sure I named the song, but along with the words I had come up with, they were long gone from my memory.