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The Innocent Relapse

Sticking up.

“Hey honey,” Mom yelled as soon as I came in the door. She was in the kitchen cooking up what smelled like a cake of some sort.

I followed her voice and the smell and saw her indeed adding the final coat of frosting to a fresh cake. “Hey. Mom.”

“How was your day? I see you got some new clothes, very nice. How was job hunting?” She seemed a little rushed.

I looked at the clock and saw it was almost dinnertime. She was rushing to finish her job. “Successful.”

She stopped for a moment and looked at me. She was processing my response. Computing the reply. When she was done loading, a broad smile spread across her face. “Really?”

I nodded, trying to conceal a urge to smile at her reaction.

“Oh, my baby’s growing up,” she laughed and crossed the kitchen, wrapping her arms around me. She made clicky tongue sounds in my ears like she didn’t believe it. She pulled away from me, “So tell me all about it? Where is it?” She left my side and went back to frosting.

“It’s actually at a psychiatrist’s office,” I nervously rubbed the back of my head. “I’m just sorting papers and files for a couple hours every day.”

She looked up at me for a second. I think she was reaching the same idea I had reached when I saw the opening online. A little taste of Reynard’s right here in Jersey. Her placid face made me think for a moment that I had lost her support, but then she spoke, “That’s great, Gerard.” Her voice wasn’t quite as happy now. “Really, that’s wonderful. Can you go call your father down for dinner?”

Her change in expression puzzled me. I was desperate to win back her approval. “Do you want me to get Mikey, too, Ma?” It took me a minute to realize what I just offered. Was her approval worth that much potential mental chaos?

The answer came in the form of a dreamy grin that grew on the face. I had flipped her emotional switch again. “Yeah, please.”

I turned away, cursing my quick thinking. I went to the living room first where Dad was sorting through the mail. “Dad, dinner.” I mentioned nonchalantly.

“Okay, thanks Gerard,” he said as he began to get up and go over to the table.

I walked over to the staircase , stopping at starring at the incline. I put my foot up and climbed one, then another, then another. With each step I felt the bile in my stomach rise in my throat, a sure sign I was nervous. At the top of the stairs, I felt like throwing myself back down them. I looked up to your door. I had been trying to avoid it since I got back, even when you weren’t there. The sight of you peeking through the crack with tears in your eyes still resonated with me.

I took two steps towards your door. Then two more. I edged myself closer and closer until I was almost there. I froze as I could hear the subtle rock music playing from your speakers and you shuffling around in what sounded like papers of some sort. This was too real for me. I backed myself up against the linen closet, a good three or four feet from your door. This was far enough back where the sounds were only a whisper in my ear.

I waited there a moment, wishing I hadn’t agreed to this. Maybe I could just go back and tell Mom I couldn’t do it. As much as I didn’t want to see the look on her face when I told her that, I didn’t want to come get you. I shook my head as I tried to decide.

I took a deep breath and held in my air. Come on. I told myself. Just a knock and a word. Dinner. Just yell dinner.

I took the steps towards your door again. One foot in front of the other. When I was close enough, I raised a fist to your door. I held it midair, wondering if I was really gonna do this. I had to. For mom. I went for the knock, pivoting my arm downwards. But my knuckles never hit the wood. Cause you opened the door. And like that, you were standing across from me. My fist still in the air.

“Dinner?” you asked. Your eyebrows rising above the shadow of your black frames.

I froze. Unable to move or speak or breath. A shiver went through my body and I gave a short nod. You seemed to take this as a response.

You passed me in the threshold, stretching yourself to go around me. I felt the wake of your wind hit me and followed you with my eyes. You walked down the hall to the edge of the stairs, before stopping and turning towards me. “You look nice, by the way,” you said quietly. You pursed your lips and blinked hard before turning back and fleeting down the staircase.

You left me there, in front of your door. You told me I looked nice. You really just did that.

I fell to the floor. Sobbing. Lack of oxygen. Body curling together. My hands over my face. Shaking my head. Trying to rid my mind of what happened. My tears fell one by one onto the hardwood floor in front of your room.


It must have been about twenty minutes until they called out for me. “Gerard,” I heard Dad yell. “Dinner time now.” He sounded slightly annoyed.

By then, I was all salty and dried up and could barely remember why I had started crying in the first place. I couldn’t let them know this had happened. This childish paroxysm. I pulled myself off the ground. My limbs felt heavy as I walked toward the staircase. Stepping down each step clumsily, half hoping I slip and die. I dragged myself into the dining room. My seat was waiting for me and so was everyone else.

I pulled the chair out and sat down heavily.

“What took you so long son? We were waiting for you,” Dad dropped his napkin in his lap and took a sip of his water.

I opened my mouth. My head was still buzzing from the lack of air and my hands fumbled around my dining space. Aligning everything just so my hands stayed busy. “I got caught up in something,” I finally said as clearly as I possible, over enunciating each word.

I felt your eyes on me. I didn’t want to think about them, not now.

“Guess who got a job today?” Mom brought up somewhat happily, obviously still upset about where it was.

“No kidding,” Dad said, almost sounding happy for me. “Doing what, Gerard?”

I smoothed the napkin over my lap, never lifting my eyes. “I’m working in a psychiatrist’s office, filing and such.”

“Well that sounds like fun,” Dad retorted. Snorting a bit with sarcasm. “Do you get free sessions?”

I heard Mom breath in sharply. I looked up to her and saw the death glare she was giving Dad.

“What? I’m just kidding,” Dad brushed her off.

She shook her head in disapproval.

“No, Mom it’s fine,” I shook my head. “I don’t know, Dad. But I’ll ask for you. Lord knows you need them.”

“Don’t you start with me,” his tone had a bite to it that I remembered from the last time we argued.

“Stop,” you said quietly on your side of the table. “Stop picking on him.”

“Don’t get into this, Mikey,” Dad shook his head. “We know what trouble that will bring.”

There was a loud screech. The sound of you violently scooting your chair out. You got up, leaving the table. I heard your feet up the stairs and the slam of your bedroom door.

“Thanks a lot, Don. Ruined a perfectly good dinner,” Mom got up with an unrelenting angst in her voice. She went off to her room and slammed the door.

I sat there as Dad picked apart his meal, as if nothing happened. “I think I lost my appetite,” I sighed and got up. I walked slowly back to my room, shutting the door, and collapsing on my bed.


ok so just finished reading this in one day. this plotttttttttrtrttttttt

This is the best fan fic I've ever read. It has a very unique story line and I love it dearly. I'm sure it would get better if iT WAS EVER UPDATED!

waycestislife waycestislife

I have the distinct feeling I'm not getting the end of this.

Please update? Just read all 47 chapters in one go, need more! X

NOOOOOOOOOOO you can't just leave it like that.One thing I can't stand the most is cliffhangers!!!!!
please update soon