Twelve Minutes to Midnight

I let out a huff of air as you collapse into me as if I were your life line. You wrap your drunken arms around me, your greasy hair rubbing into my neck. You smell like shit, old cigarettes, and alcohol. Stagnant and stale. Your breath is hot and wet, breathing into my neck as you whisper all kinds of balderdash. None of it matters really. You won't remember what you said, and I'll pretend I don't either. You're crying- sobbing actually. Drinking big quaffs of air into your chest as you wail and moan about the last soul-mate who broke your heart. Usually I'll find myself soothing you, feeling despondency settle over my chest, but right now I feel an abnormal wave of vexation hit me like a tidal wave; Fast and deadly. I shove you off me, your eyes growing larger than dinner plates, staring at me like you're a deer in the headlights.

"I'm fucking sick of this bullshit Gerard" I seethe, the anger in my eyes proliferating, setting blaze to yours.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" You're yelling now. A crescendo of your little whispers only seconds ago filling my ears.

My heart creeps it's way up my chest, caught in my throat.

"I'm sorry Burt broke my heart Frank! I really fucking loved him and now he's gone. What do you expect me to do?" You're tearing up. But it seems like it's more from anger really, finding any nook or cranny to burst from. Your sanity hanging on a tread with mine. It's 12 minutes to midnight I think I'm loosing my mind.

"Yeah, yeah, fall again. Fall again with no one to catch you and wake up tomorrow with a $20 nosebleed and a couple cracked ribs like you always do. Drink yourself into oblivion while I sit and get splinters putting together your heart over and over again until my fingers are bleeding and sore. You fall "in love" with someone, fuck, paint a few pictures of them, and then they always "break your heart." Poor fucking you Gerard. Grow the fuck up and get over it. I've never got a thank you. Not once. Ever. I've picked you up every time you've been down and I'll never hear a thank you slip from your lips." I'm livid now, spitting the venom-filled words in your face, I hope it burns like acid.

A sudden beeping interrupts us, both of us search the room for where it is coming from. It stops, leaving us to the quiet white-noise. You look up at me intensely, wounded and broken, and take timid steps towards me and lean in, your lips almost brushing on my ear. My heart beat speeds up as I await for the precious secret to drip like honey into my ear, but instead, all I can hear is the loud, aggravated beeping.

Light.

That's the first coherent thought that comes into my mind. I open my eyes, slow and cautious. My eyelids felt heavy, still drenched with sleep. The luminous light glowed cheerily in the room from the open window. I hit my alarm clock until I punched the "sleep" button, the loud noise halting with a satisfying "click!" I turn to the space next to me, a girl is there. Her dark brown hair splayed across my pillows and her long eyelashes look beautiful in contrast to her pale complexion. She looked whimsical sleeping, but I remembered how aggressive she was. Biting, shoving, and clawing me. Her name had slipped my mind. Not that it mattered, he'd be gone by the time she was up. I sighed and sat up, swinging my lethargic feet over the edge of the bed, taking sluggish steps towards the kitchen in my small apartment.

The coffee maker was already on, a warm pot of black coffee waiting for me just like I programmed it to three years ago when I moved to New York. I poured some of it, black, into a thermos and slid back into my room to get dressed, watching the girl, Veronica maybe, vigilantly, making sure she stayed sound asleep until I left. She snuffed once, her face contorting to a small pre-sneeze face almost. My heart stopped, but her face soon relaxed and here I was like always was, Monday morning on the ferry going to my office in Maine, I had just signed a new band to my label Skeleton Crew. The lead singer vaguely reminded me of Gerard. Inspired and angsty and heartbroken and when they showed me their song "Your Lips Look So Sweet Darling (But This Whiskey Looks Sweeter)" I knew, this was the band that was going to raise the stakes for Skeleton Crew. The thought of Gerard dampened my mood, and as I stepped off the ferry I felt more desolate than ever. I swear, I could see my heart lined up in desolation row, awaiting to implode in earth-shattering silence. The ferry chugged away on the water, and as I plowed my way through the crowd, I urged the memory of Gerard to do the same.

Notes

yeahh I'm writing a third part too..