You should have never come
29
...“I’m not leaving Gee, I promise,”
Gerard’s POV
I remember googling how to deal with panic attacks several years ago. It never really helped, it was very vanilla. They were all too much like something a pretentious teenage girl would make: the background was always some pastel colour, for example soft mint green, and the white writing read something along the lines of “You have done it before, you can do it again. Nothing can go too wrong. It’s okay to cry. Remember that you’re a human being, too. ”
I fucking know I’m a human being, a panic attack isn’t a synonym of amnesia!
Anyways, my internet surfing didn’t bring much clearness and I doubt that it’s going to help me now. I always freak out at the most unfitting and uncomfortable moments, while a normal person would just let it pass, and I really can’t help it. Mom told me I just have to get my breath even and everything will come naturally, but it’s a lot harder than it sounds.
I’m still pressed up against Frank’s chest, and I can hear his surprisingly (at least for me) calm heartbeat. See, he is a rationally thinking person which I myself happen not to be, but he chose not to tell me what is going on in his mind. I think it would actually help me, I’d be able to look at the situation from a different perspective, also known as a calm-smart-and-collected-person’s point of view. He is probably thinking of what he should do when I black out again or how he can prevent it. I should tell him to not add any more sugar to my tea after I wake up- I hate it when it’s sweet.
“Hey Frank?” I ask and am immediately met with a short kiss on the top of my head.
“Yeah?”
“Are you scared?”
“No, and you shouldn’t be either. Look, Diego is your friend, right?” I silently nod in reply, concentrating on the warmth of Frank’s naked chest against me. “He wouldn’t want you to get into trouble, so even if he saw us, he’ll do nothing but joke about it with you,”
I don’t reply. This seems to make sense, and I’m honestly trying my best to fully believe him.
No, the wording is wrong. I’m trying to make myself believe what I already believe, no matter how messed up that sounds. Frank’s hand runs along my hair, smoothing it down.
“You wanna go talk to him?” he asks me quietly, starting to unwrap his arms from around me. I nod again and wipe my nose with the back of my hand. I disconnect from Frank and take several steps towards the door, when suddenly his hand falls onto my shoulder, stopping me.
“Gee?”
“Yeah?”
“Where in America are you from?”
“New Jersey. Why?”
“Same. I was just wondering because I wouldn’t want this to be a two-weeks thing, you know. I’d like to see you after the camp ends,”
I smile uncontrollably widely at him and he returns it, flashing his white teeth. The feeling of being needed and important to someone you care about is the best sensation in the whole wide world, I wouldn’t trade it for anything else. Hearing sweet words pour from the mouth of a loved one and knowing they are sincere can can’t be compared to anything.
“Now go. I’ll see you downstairs in five minutes,” he kisses my lips again before sprinting down the corridor and swiftly turning right, skipping down the stairs. His footsteps echo in the air before completely fading away. Once again I feel small and unprotected.
I enter the hotel room, cautiously looking around. The beds are all empty. Diego isn’t in the main room and the water has stopped running in the bathroom. I wait for several long seconds until I can hardly bear the heavy silence
“Diego?” I call out hesitantly. My voice sounds sharp and clear, better than I expected it to.
“Don’t go into the bathroom, I’m changing!” his voice rings from behind the closed bathroom door and I sink onto my bed with a sigh, planning a strategy of what to say if he asks me about Frank. There is really no possible excuse of what happened except for the truth: Frank and I were making out in the corridor as if it’s the most normal thing in the universe, no lie will be believable enough. A dare? No. An Accident? Yeah, what kind of accident is that?
Suddenly the bathroom door flings open and Diego appears. His eyes meet mine for a second and he almost immediately breaks the contact, glancing down at the heap of clothes in his hands. He walks past me and drops the items onto his bed. He then starts digging around in his suitcase, looking for something.
“How late are we?” he asks, turning around his shoulder to look at me. I shrug my shoulders, fumbling with my thumbs.
“I don’t know. I think right now we’re about five minutes fucked,” I try to joke and fight the urge to slap myself.
“Ballash is gonna end us,” Diego grins, a short laugh escaping his throat as and turns back to his suitcase. He pauses and brushes a strand of hair out of his face with his hand. I’m not sure how to feel about him not mentioning Frank - did he not see us or is he just uncomfortable mentioning it to me? I wonder if I’m the only one for whom this silence is so awkward.
Diego pulls out a pair of clean white socks and his lips part in a glad smile. He plops down on his bed and quickly puts them on.
“I was scared I would have to hand-wash them, I didn’t know how many mom has packed,” he explains. At least I’m not the only one who has no idea how to pack his bags.
Gerard’s POV
I remember googling how to deal with panic attacks several years ago. It never really helped, it was very vanilla. They were all too much like something a pretentious teenage girl would make: the background was always some pastel colour, for example soft mint green, and the white writing read something along the lines of “You have done it before, you can do it again. Nothing can go too wrong. It’s okay to cry. Remember that you’re a human being, too. ”
I fucking know I’m a human being, a panic attack isn’t a synonym of amnesia!
Anyways, my internet surfing didn’t bring much clearness and I doubt that it’s going to help me now. I always freak out at the most unfitting and uncomfortable moments, while a normal person would just let it pass, and I really can’t help it. Mom told me I just have to get my breath even and everything will come naturally, but it’s a lot harder than it sounds.
I’m still pressed up against Frank’s chest, and I can hear his surprisingly (at least for me) calm heartbeat. See, he is a rationally thinking person which I myself happen not to be, but he chose not to tell me what is going on in his mind. I think it would actually help me, I’d be able to look at the situation from a different perspective, also known as a calm-smart-and-collected-person’s point of view. He is probably thinking of what he should do when I black out again or how he can prevent it. I should tell him to not add any more sugar to my tea after I wake up- I hate it when it’s sweet.
“Hey Frank?” I ask and am immediately met with a short kiss on the top of my head.
“Yeah?”
“Are you scared?”
“No, and you shouldn’t be either. Look, Diego is your friend, right?” I silently nod in reply, concentrating on the warmth of Frank’s naked chest against me. “He wouldn’t want you to get into trouble, so even if he saw us, he’ll do nothing but joke about it with you,”
I don’t reply. This seems to make sense, and I’m honestly trying my best to fully believe him.
No, the wording is wrong. I’m trying to make myself believe what I already believe, no matter how messed up that sounds. Frank’s hand runs along my hair, smoothing it down.
“You wanna go talk to him?” he asks me quietly, starting to unwrap his arms from around me. I nod again and wipe my nose with the back of my hand. I disconnect from Frank and take several steps towards the door, when suddenly his hand falls onto my shoulder, stopping me.
“Gee?”
“Yeah?”
“Where in America are you from?”
“New Jersey. Why?”
“Same. I was just wondering because I wouldn’t want this to be a two-weeks thing, you know. I’d like to see you after the camp ends,”
I smile uncontrollably widely at him and he returns it, flashing his white teeth. The feeling of being needed and important to someone you care about is the best sensation in the whole wide world, I wouldn’t trade it for anything else. Hearing sweet words pour from the mouth of a loved one and knowing they are sincere can can’t be compared to anything.
“Now go. I’ll see you downstairs in five minutes,” he kisses my lips again before sprinting down the corridor and swiftly turning right, skipping down the stairs. His footsteps echo in the air before completely fading away. Once again I feel small and unprotected.
I enter the hotel room, cautiously looking around. The beds are all empty. Diego isn’t in the main room and the water has stopped running in the bathroom. I wait for several long seconds until I can hardly bear the heavy silence
“Diego?” I call out hesitantly. My voice sounds sharp and clear, better than I expected it to.
“Don’t go into the bathroom, I’m changing!” his voice rings from behind the closed bathroom door and I sink onto my bed with a sigh, planning a strategy of what to say if he asks me about Frank. There is really no possible excuse of what happened except for the truth: Frank and I were making out in the corridor as if it’s the most normal thing in the universe, no lie will be believable enough. A dare? No. An Accident? Yeah, what kind of accident is that?
Suddenly the bathroom door flings open and Diego appears. His eyes meet mine for a second and he almost immediately breaks the contact, glancing down at the heap of clothes in his hands. He walks past me and drops the items onto his bed. He then starts digging around in his suitcase, looking for something.
“How late are we?” he asks, turning around his shoulder to look at me. I shrug my shoulders, fumbling with my thumbs.
“I don’t know. I think right now we’re about five minutes fucked,” I try to joke and fight the urge to slap myself.
“Ballash is gonna end us,” Diego grins, a short laugh escaping his throat as and turns back to his suitcase. He pauses and brushes a strand of hair out of his face with his hand. I’m not sure how to feel about him not mentioning Frank - did he not see us or is he just uncomfortable mentioning it to me? I wonder if I’m the only one for whom this silence is so awkward.
Diego pulls out a pair of clean white socks and his lips part in a glad smile. He plops down on his bed and quickly puts them on.
“I was scared I would have to hand-wash them, I didn’t know how many mom has packed,” he explains. At least I’m not the only one who has no idea how to pack his bags.
Notes
Even I'm starting to get annoyed with these short chapters
I re-wrote an old chapter from my other fic and it would really mean a lot if you guys read it. Basically it's a murder scene and it used to be just half a page, and now it's three pages. I need your feedback and thank you)
http://www.mychemicalromancefanfiction.com/Story/57476/Someone-save-my-soul-tonight-please-save-my-soul/7/
This was actually the first fanfiction I ever read. (Hence that was like a year and a half ago)
5/1/17