Married In My Mind

Wednesday had been going miserably.

Maybe that was how I’d found myself at the back of a punk venue with Bert fucking McCracken. We didn’t really hang out anymore, not since I’d gotten clean. He still texted me often, inviting me to this and that, asking how I was doing.
He’d always been my partner in crime back before I’d sobered up. It wasn’t something either of us could forget about. When a person sees you at your darkest hour, you never forget them. They never forget you.
And that was what I assumed to be the reason that we’d kept in touch the past couple of years.

After band practice I’d opened my phone to find a standard Friday-night text from Bert. He was going to a show and wanted to know if I wanted to come. I usually told him “no”. In fact, I almost always told him “no”. There’d be alcohol. There’d be drugs. I knew that.
But there was something undeniably different about tonight. I’d politely declined Mikey’s invitation to go out to dinner with the rest of the band. Mikey pointed out that Frank would be going and, under his breath, mentioned it would be a good opportunity to try and make things right with him.

I wasn’t really hungry, I’d told him. Not for food anyways.
I was hungry for oblivion.

And “oblivion” was the exact feeling that washed over me as Bert passed me a can of beer. I stared at the unopened can for a long moment, thinking about the years I’d spent not doing exactly what I was about to do right now. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered.
I looked over at Bert who had almost finished chugging the beer he’d just opened.
It was just one beer. I’d have one. Maybe two.

But that wasn’t how things went.
Two doubled into four.
Four became five.
Six.
Seven.
Eight? I’d suddenly lost count.
Back in the days I could knock down 10 or 15 easy, but my empty stomach just couldn’t handle all of the poison. I headed to the bathroom to throw it up. I’d feel better if I could just puke some.
I dashed into one of the stalls and immediately started to retch.
I hadn’t noticed that Bert had followed me to the bathroom until he knocked on the door to the stall.
“Gerard? That you?” he muttered.
“Yeah. It’s me.” I replied. My throat burned. My voice sounded tiny and far away.
“I uh, I got something for you.. If you want it.”
I wiped the slime off my chin and opened the door. Bert immediately stepped in, and locked the stall door behind him. He produced a small bag of coke from his pocket. A shit-eating grin spread across his face.
“Listen. I know you’ve been clean for awhile now. But I figured, since you came out tonight and everything, that you’d be interested. And this is good shit, Gee. Real good. You can say ‘no’ of course. I just thought I would share.”
Even in my drunken stupor I could tell he’d already sampled the white product in the palm of his hand.
“It’d be just like old times!” He whispered excitedly, flashing me that friendly smile I loved so much.
Fuck it.
Fuck everything.

The coke did it’s job: taking the edge off of the booze. Everything was clearer as I stepped out of the bathroom. Faces of strangers sped by me in the darkness. I followed Bert through the crowd to the back of the venue. He passed me another beer.
Bert talked and laughed, telling me story after story. People came up to say hello to him. Some of them even recognized me from when I used to hang around places like this. He passed a few dudes the little bags, just like the one we’d shared in the bathroom. I sipped my beer gingerly, feeling full of its oblivion and overwhelmed by the flood of all things I’d denied myself all this time. Bert was hanging off of me; his arm was wrapped around my shoulder loosely. Every now and then he’d whisper in my ear, checking in on me and making sure I was having fun and not feeling too weird.
As fucked up as this destructive evening was, Bert was a good friend in a twisted way.

After a while we stepped outside for a cigarette. We stood outside the venue laughing and falling over each other. I nearly avoided burning his long black hair with my cigarette over and over. I wasn’t sure how it had happened but I had another beer in my hand. I was forgetting things more and more. I hadn’t looked at my phone in several hours. I had no clue what time it was.

My head snapped up at the harsh mention of my name.
“Gerard? What the fuck are you doing here!?” a voice called.
I faced the direction of the angry voice and found Frank was standing in front of me. His eyes darted between my face, Bert’s face and the can in my hand.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” He snarled, knocking my beer out of my hand.
“Whoa. Hey man. Chill out…” Bert slurred beside me, holding my hand. “Can someone get this guy a beer?”
“What are you doing here, Frank?” I asked, trying to sound as irritated as possible.
“I came to see a band. What the fuck are you doing here?”
“Hanging around with Bert. You know... Whatever.” I sighed. Frank had a look of pure horror on his face.
“Oh my god. Gerard, you’re fucked up. I need to get you out of here. Right. Now.” He spat. “You’re going to regret this tomorrow. Fuck.” He reached for my arm but I didn’t budge. I pulled away from his grip. Good, I thought.
“Frank, I’ve got to be honest with you. You’re being a buzzkill right now. In fact, you’re ruining my night. I’d actually managed to forget about you for 5 seconds and here you are, you know, ruining it.” I told him flatly.
I didn’t mean it like that. It just came out that way. His frown tightened.
The last thing I could remember after that was Frank Iero punching me in the face as hard as he could.
Then nothing.
Just oblivion.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I never dreamed when I drank this much, but for whatever reason I dreamed...
In my dream my head was laying in Frank’s lap in the back of a cab. He held my face in his hands and stroked my hair gently. Tears were streaming down his face. Sometimes they landed on me. He just let them fall without bothering to wipe them away.
Frank was so beautiful. It was all I could think about as I stared up at his sad face. I wanted to tell him but I couldn't seem to speak. Even when he was crying he was beautiful. He was saying stuff to me but I couldn’t understand any of it.
I wanted to tell him I loved him but he already knew.

That was the problem, wasn’t it?
He knew everything that I thought about him and I didn’t know what he thought about me.

Notes

hi.
hope u dudes like this update.
leave me somethin nice if u do!!

(to clarify: the last part of the chapter isn't a dream. gerard thinks he's dreaming but he's actually just too fucked up to realize what's rlly happening)
small spoiler - frerard turns up next chapter so stay tuned.

-m