Honey, this Mirror Ain't Big Enough for the Two of Us.
Chapter 4- Group Therapy
Chapter 4- Frank
**************
Ray and I are the last ones to sit down at group therapy, all the other patients already waiting for us so we can begin. I blink fiercely, removing any traces of tears, and look around at the other patients, seeing maybe seven or eight sullen and mute figures, each with their respective doctors conversing in a corner. Ray pats my lower back reassuringly, before going to join the doctors. I look after him, angrily and panicked, hating to be in a group of strangers. I realize the room has fallen silent and everyone is watching me glare and pout at Ray’s back. My face heats up as I sit down in my chair quickly and cross my arms defensively, kicking at the ground.
A man with straightened strawberry blond hair stands up. He introduces himself, giving off an air of confidence that poorly masks his apprehension and shyness.“Hey, Guys. My name is Patrick, and I’m going to be your therapy session supervisor for your time spent here.Why don’t we start by going around and saying our names, past drug of choice, and any other information we would like to share with the group.Any volunteers to start?”
He looks around expectantly, but he is only met by silence and downcast eyes. I find it hilarious that Patrick actually believes any of us are going to be excited to jump up and tell a room full of strangers personal information about our lives. He momentarily looks uncertain and quickly recovers.
“So I guess I’ll start then.My name is Patrick Stump, I am 32 years old. I was addicted to a cocktail of alcohol and prescription pills. I was sent here six years ago and have been clean for five years, my favorite color is green, and I am absolutely terrified of public speaking.” He says quickly, not making eye contact with anyone.
An extremely skinny man with many tattoos butts in, blurting out a question that was also on my mind.“If you’re so afraid of public speaking, why the hell are you here? Your job is practically nothing but public speaking. Why didn’t they find another recovered addict to come in and talk?”
Patrick seems to realize this and sits down. He speaks in an overly casual tone, “Other alumni of this institute were not available at this time.” Oh, great. They’re all dead or still on drugs. I honestly wouldn’t care if I become one of those ‘alumni’ soon as I get out of this joint.
Patrick quickly draws attention away from his statement by making us all go around in a circle and share our life’s’ story with each other. I watch each person that goes, giving them nicknames in my head, like Skinny-Guy-With-Tattoos, and Paranoid-Redhead-Chick.It’s finally my turn to share, and I reluctantly drag myself to my feet and stare at my feet. “Uh…Hi. My name is Frank Iero. I’m 19, hooked on meth, and my parents are more religious than the mother in ‘Carrie’. They sent me here when they walked in on me using this past Sunday, and I’ve been disowned. My life fucking sucks, and I’ll be using as soon as I get out of this place.” I plunk down in my seat, before adding an afterthought. “My favorite colors are black and red. Next.”
Ray is glaring at me, disappointed that I’m being so uncooperative. I shrug at him, trying to pretend I wasn’t upset by the fact his stare is burning into my soul. I shift guiltily in my seat, trying to ignore him.
I can feel another stare on me. I glance around, looking for the person who could be staring. My eyes connect with another person sitting across from me in the circle, a man. His eyes are a gorgeous hazel and his skin is pale, so pale it’s like he’s never even seen the sun. One of his eyes is marred with a black eye, the bruise flowering around it, bordering the edge of his pixy-like nose. Locks of ink black hair fall across his angular face, its long length obscuring his eyebrows and ears. His pale pink lips turn upwards in a half-smile as he meets my eyes. Oh, God, he’s perfect.I blush as I realize I’m staring, but find myself unable to break the intense eye contact that has started. He smiles wider at my apparent blush and I catch a glimpse of tiny teeth, small and perfect. Men like this are the reason I question if I really am into girls at all. He mouths something to me that I can’t understand. I mouth back, ‘what?’ He rolls his eyes and gestures with his hand, as if to say never mind. I nod and try not to pay attention to the beautiful man sitting only a few feet away from me. A few people introduce themselves and I can’t focus on anything else but the man across the circle of chairs.
It is finally his turn to stand up, and I turn my full attention to him as he rises out of his chair, taking note of his baggy black hoodie and old cargo pants. They complement him somehow.
He starts to talk, his voice somewhat feminine for a man and laced with a New Jersey drawl. “My name is Gerard, Gerard Way. My poison of choice is smack. You know, junk, dope, horse, shot, H-” he is cut off by Patrick’s pointed cough, telling him to keep things moving. He looks sheepish, and clears his throat. “My drug of choice is heroin. I am homeless, and have been for quite some time now. I’m 24, and have done nothing positive with my life. I was found having a withdrawal episode in an alley when the police found me. I’m here before jail time. My favorite colors are also red and black,” He says looking at me for a second. He continues. “There, so now you know all my secrets. I’m an open book. Next.”
I watch him as he sits down, surprised. Homeless… Fuck, he’s got it worse than me. And he’s going to jail after this. I see Gerard in a slightly different light now, but not a necessarily negative one. Just one that shows beyond that pretty face, to something deeper.
One more person introduces himself, and then Patrick is announcing that ‘that’s all the time we have today, and we will resume next Wednesday, at the same time.’ Everyone slowly gets up, stretching or rubbing their faces. I look to Ray, who is deep in conversation with another doctor with black ponytails. Gerard comes over to me, evidently trying to engage me in conversation. I watch him as he strides over, trying not to show any emotion on my face, playing it cool. He stops in front of me, and I can see the definite height difference between us. He seems to be about four or five inches taller than my short build of five foot, four inches. I look up at him, arching an eyebrow to question his approach.
“Can I help you?” I ask, trying to be nonchalant. He smirks again. God, this boy and his smirking. He replies, “Well, we kind of had a staring contest just now. I thought I’d introduce myself to the boy with the pretty eyes. I’m Gerard, but you already know that.” He sticks his hand between us, holding it out for me to shake. I blush and casually shake his hand, letting my fingers linger as I drop it. His fingers are long and slender. Elegant.
I reply to him, “Yeah, I believe I do already know that. I’m Frank.” I softly smile as there is a moment of silence. “What did you mouth to me? I’m shit at reading lips.” I ask him.
The smirk falls off his face as he looks at me, starting at me intensely with those burning eyes again. “I asked you if you were okay. I was admitted here last night, and my room is right next to yours, actually. You were screaming and scratching yourself….You are okay, right?”
I look down at our shoes, embarrassed that he saw me in such a vulnerable state. I try to not let my embarrassment show. “Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks for asking, sorry you had to see that.” I pull on my neck slightly, trying not to meet his sympathetic eyes.
“Hey, no problem,” Hey says to me, smiling a bit sadly. “I know the feeling.”He looks over as the doctor with ponytails gestures to him impatiently. “I gotta go, the wench calls.” I giggle slightly at his use of the word wench. He starts to walk backwards, getting father away from me as he finishes talking. “I’ll see you around, okay Frank? We are next door neighbors, after all.” He flashes me that perfect smirk again, and leaves with his doctor. I blush at how my name rolls off his tongue, how he pulls out the ‘a’ sound slightly.
Ray comes over to retrieve me, giving me a knowing look. I glare at him, a blush creeping up my face and neck as he elbows me and motions after Gerard and his nurse. We walk back to my room, and it is only after he clicks the door shut that he cracks a massive smile. “So, I see you made a friend?” He asks, laughter creeping into his voice.
I shove him away, turning so he can’t see the look on my face. “Shut the fuck up, Ray.” He sits next to me on the bed, suddenly growing serious. “Are….you gay, Frank?” He asks.
I look at him. “I…I honestly don’t know. I want to think that I’m not, but I look at him, and….” I trail off and look down at my feet. “My parents would completely hate me if I was. More than they already do, anyways.”
Ray is silent for a minute, but then speaks. “Your parents…Are horrible people, Frank. Find someone you love, and love them. I saw the way you and Gerard looked at each other. Just do what makes you happy.”
I don’t respond. I don’t know how to. He stands up to leave, and just as he turns to the door I throw my arms around his chest, hugging him tightly. “Thank you, Ray.” I whisper.
He turns back around and hugs me back, having to bend over slightly. “Thanks for what?” He asks quietly.
“Just….thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
After we detach, he gives me a smile and silently walks out the door, leaving me alone with my confusion, my undeniable attraction, and my thoughts of Gerard’s smirk stuck in my head.
**************
Ray and I are the last ones to sit down at group therapy, all the other patients already waiting for us so we can begin. I blink fiercely, removing any traces of tears, and look around at the other patients, seeing maybe seven or eight sullen and mute figures, each with their respective doctors conversing in a corner. Ray pats my lower back reassuringly, before going to join the doctors. I look after him, angrily and panicked, hating to be in a group of strangers. I realize the room has fallen silent and everyone is watching me glare and pout at Ray’s back. My face heats up as I sit down in my chair quickly and cross my arms defensively, kicking at the ground.
A man with straightened strawberry blond hair stands up. He introduces himself, giving off an air of confidence that poorly masks his apprehension and shyness.“Hey, Guys. My name is Patrick, and I’m going to be your therapy session supervisor for your time spent here.Why don’t we start by going around and saying our names, past drug of choice, and any other information we would like to share with the group.Any volunteers to start?”
He looks around expectantly, but he is only met by silence and downcast eyes. I find it hilarious that Patrick actually believes any of us are going to be excited to jump up and tell a room full of strangers personal information about our lives. He momentarily looks uncertain and quickly recovers.
“So I guess I’ll start then.My name is Patrick Stump, I am 32 years old. I was addicted to a cocktail of alcohol and prescription pills. I was sent here six years ago and have been clean for five years, my favorite color is green, and I am absolutely terrified of public speaking.” He says quickly, not making eye contact with anyone.
An extremely skinny man with many tattoos butts in, blurting out a question that was also on my mind.“If you’re so afraid of public speaking, why the hell are you here? Your job is practically nothing but public speaking. Why didn’t they find another recovered addict to come in and talk?”
Patrick seems to realize this and sits down. He speaks in an overly casual tone, “Other alumni of this institute were not available at this time.” Oh, great. They’re all dead or still on drugs. I honestly wouldn’t care if I become one of those ‘alumni’ soon as I get out of this joint.
Patrick quickly draws attention away from his statement by making us all go around in a circle and share our life’s’ story with each other. I watch each person that goes, giving them nicknames in my head, like Skinny-Guy-With-Tattoos, and Paranoid-Redhead-Chick.It’s finally my turn to share, and I reluctantly drag myself to my feet and stare at my feet. “Uh…Hi. My name is Frank Iero. I’m 19, hooked on meth, and my parents are more religious than the mother in ‘Carrie’. They sent me here when they walked in on me using this past Sunday, and I’ve been disowned. My life fucking sucks, and I’ll be using as soon as I get out of this place.” I plunk down in my seat, before adding an afterthought. “My favorite colors are black and red. Next.”
Ray is glaring at me, disappointed that I’m being so uncooperative. I shrug at him, trying to pretend I wasn’t upset by the fact his stare is burning into my soul. I shift guiltily in my seat, trying to ignore him.
I can feel another stare on me. I glance around, looking for the person who could be staring. My eyes connect with another person sitting across from me in the circle, a man. His eyes are a gorgeous hazel and his skin is pale, so pale it’s like he’s never even seen the sun. One of his eyes is marred with a black eye, the bruise flowering around it, bordering the edge of his pixy-like nose. Locks of ink black hair fall across his angular face, its long length obscuring his eyebrows and ears. His pale pink lips turn upwards in a half-smile as he meets my eyes. Oh, God, he’s perfect.I blush as I realize I’m staring, but find myself unable to break the intense eye contact that has started. He smiles wider at my apparent blush and I catch a glimpse of tiny teeth, small and perfect. Men like this are the reason I question if I really am into girls at all. He mouths something to me that I can’t understand. I mouth back, ‘what?’ He rolls his eyes and gestures with his hand, as if to say never mind. I nod and try not to pay attention to the beautiful man sitting only a few feet away from me. A few people introduce themselves and I can’t focus on anything else but the man across the circle of chairs.
It is finally his turn to stand up, and I turn my full attention to him as he rises out of his chair, taking note of his baggy black hoodie and old cargo pants. They complement him somehow.
He starts to talk, his voice somewhat feminine for a man and laced with a New Jersey drawl. “My name is Gerard, Gerard Way. My poison of choice is smack. You know, junk, dope, horse, shot, H-” he is cut off by Patrick’s pointed cough, telling him to keep things moving. He looks sheepish, and clears his throat. “My drug of choice is heroin. I am homeless, and have been for quite some time now. I’m 24, and have done nothing positive with my life. I was found having a withdrawal episode in an alley when the police found me. I’m here before jail time. My favorite colors are also red and black,” He says looking at me for a second. He continues. “There, so now you know all my secrets. I’m an open book. Next.”
I watch him as he sits down, surprised. Homeless… Fuck, he’s got it worse than me. And he’s going to jail after this. I see Gerard in a slightly different light now, but not a necessarily negative one. Just one that shows beyond that pretty face, to something deeper.
One more person introduces himself, and then Patrick is announcing that ‘that’s all the time we have today, and we will resume next Wednesday, at the same time.’ Everyone slowly gets up, stretching or rubbing their faces. I look to Ray, who is deep in conversation with another doctor with black ponytails. Gerard comes over to me, evidently trying to engage me in conversation. I watch him as he strides over, trying not to show any emotion on my face, playing it cool. He stops in front of me, and I can see the definite height difference between us. He seems to be about four or five inches taller than my short build of five foot, four inches. I look up at him, arching an eyebrow to question his approach.
“Can I help you?” I ask, trying to be nonchalant. He smirks again. God, this boy and his smirking. He replies, “Well, we kind of had a staring contest just now. I thought I’d introduce myself to the boy with the pretty eyes. I’m Gerard, but you already know that.” He sticks his hand between us, holding it out for me to shake. I blush and casually shake his hand, letting my fingers linger as I drop it. His fingers are long and slender. Elegant.
I reply to him, “Yeah, I believe I do already know that. I’m Frank.” I softly smile as there is a moment of silence. “What did you mouth to me? I’m shit at reading lips.” I ask him.
The smirk falls off his face as he looks at me, starting at me intensely with those burning eyes again. “I asked you if you were okay. I was admitted here last night, and my room is right next to yours, actually. You were screaming and scratching yourself….You are okay, right?”
I look down at our shoes, embarrassed that he saw me in such a vulnerable state. I try to not let my embarrassment show. “Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks for asking, sorry you had to see that.” I pull on my neck slightly, trying not to meet his sympathetic eyes.
“Hey, no problem,” Hey says to me, smiling a bit sadly. “I know the feeling.”He looks over as the doctor with ponytails gestures to him impatiently. “I gotta go, the wench calls.” I giggle slightly at his use of the word wench. He starts to walk backwards, getting father away from me as he finishes talking. “I’ll see you around, okay Frank? We are next door neighbors, after all.” He flashes me that perfect smirk again, and leaves with his doctor. I blush at how my name rolls off his tongue, how he pulls out the ‘a’ sound slightly.
Ray comes over to retrieve me, giving me a knowing look. I glare at him, a blush creeping up my face and neck as he elbows me and motions after Gerard and his nurse. We walk back to my room, and it is only after he clicks the door shut that he cracks a massive smile. “So, I see you made a friend?” He asks, laughter creeping into his voice.
I shove him away, turning so he can’t see the look on my face. “Shut the fuck up, Ray.” He sits next to me on the bed, suddenly growing serious. “Are….you gay, Frank?” He asks.
I look at him. “I…I honestly don’t know. I want to think that I’m not, but I look at him, and….” I trail off and look down at my feet. “My parents would completely hate me if I was. More than they already do, anyways.”
Ray is silent for a minute, but then speaks. “Your parents…Are horrible people, Frank. Find someone you love, and love them. I saw the way you and Gerard looked at each other. Just do what makes you happy.”
I don’t respond. I don’t know how to. He stands up to leave, and just as he turns to the door I throw my arms around his chest, hugging him tightly. “Thank you, Ray.” I whisper.
He turns back around and hugs me back, having to bend over slightly. “Thanks for what?” He asks quietly.
“Just….thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
After we detach, he gives me a smile and silently walks out the door, leaving me alone with my confusion, my undeniable attraction, and my thoughts of Gerard’s smirk stuck in my head.
Notes
I hope this is okay? I've had a long day and i'm really tired. Anyways, they finally met! yayyyyyyy
Feedback keeps me going, darlings!
kthnksbyeeeee
XXX Mourning-Glory XXX
@Mourning-Glory
I ALWAYS torture poor Gee in my fics.. I should officially change his name to Poor Gerard Way, like in ALL my character lists, and everything! :) x
11/19/14