Lip Balm
Chapter One - Snap out of it
Gerards POV
I stared at the computer screen, like I had done multiple times in the last month or so. I had completly forgotten what day it was or how long it had been, it hurt too much to remember. I couldn't help but think we could have done it differently, gone out with a bang rather than ust a fizzle or a fade. I forced my sleepy eyes to focus on the short, cold paragraph that our producers had written for us as we couldn't bring ourselves to write it individually. It was brutal. We might as well have just said 'Sup guys, thanks for eveything but we're out.See ya.' It was hard to read, God knows what it would've been like for the hardcore fans.
I closed the laptop without pressing the off button, it was plugged in so it didn't really matter, and glanced at the clock. It read 4:13am. Holy shit. No wonder I was tired. Making my way into the bathroom, I tripped on one of Bandits little toy cars and ended up flying through the air, knocking a shelf down, and landing on my ass, cursing repeatedly throughout. I stood up, rubbing my bruised butt and squeezing my eyes shut when I heard a snap and felt a sharp pain in the bottom of my foot, then spent the next 46 seconds hopping around, trying to steady myself. My hand fell on the towel rail (thank God it wasn't turned on and hot) and i lent my back up against the wall, slowly sliding myself down to sit on the cold tiled floor. Noticing the amount of blood splattered on the pale blue tiles, I looked at my foot to see that it was bleeding a considerable amount. This fascinated me. For a while I let the warm liquid trickle down the underside of my foot into a small puddle that was forming next to me. It felt...good. Not fun or anything but strangely good. It helped me forget about some stuff for a while.
Snap out of it gerard.
I grabbed some tissue paper and wiped up the blood. The plasters were already on the floor as they were on the shelf that had fallen so I quickly grabbed one and winced as I carefully placed it over the small cut. I couldn't stay on the bathroom floor all night (I've tried it a couple of times, not a good idea. The neck doesn't seem to like it much) so I pushed myself up and started to rearrange the bathroom, otherwise Lyn-z would throw a fit if she got home from tour tomorrow to find the bathroom scattered all over the floor.
Jesus she has some weird shit in here. 'Anti-wrinkle cream' But she doesn't have any wrinkles! Who knows how much she has spent on this stuff. I just figured to leave it, roll my eyes dismissively and carry on cleaning. While I was gathering some more of her make up (I counted 7 lipsticks) I saw the item that was causing the stinging pain in the ball of my left foot. A light pink disposable razor that had been broken into mulitiple pieces under my body weight. I stood there, ust as mesmerised as I was with the blood, with the light from the fixture above my head reflecting off the smooth silve of the now released blade. The clock in the living room chimed five was what awoke me from my vivid imagination.
Seriously Gerard. Stop.
I quickly but carefully pucked up the now unusable razor and threw it's remains into the sink. The bathroom was now reasonably tidy so I limped into my unmade bed fully clothed and tired to sleep. Clearly my mind had different plans and instantly filled with thoughs of 'what ifs' and conversations that I would probably never have.
I stared at the computer screen, like I had done multiple times in the last month or so. I had completly forgotten what day it was or how long it had been, it hurt too much to remember. I couldn't help but think we could have done it differently, gone out with a bang rather than ust a fizzle or a fade. I forced my sleepy eyes to focus on the short, cold paragraph that our producers had written for us as we couldn't bring ourselves to write it individually. It was brutal. We might as well have just said 'Sup guys, thanks for eveything but we're out.See ya.' It was hard to read, God knows what it would've been like for the hardcore fans.
I closed the laptop without pressing the off button, it was plugged in so it didn't really matter, and glanced at the clock. It read 4:13am. Holy shit. No wonder I was tired. Making my way into the bathroom, I tripped on one of Bandits little toy cars and ended up flying through the air, knocking a shelf down, and landing on my ass, cursing repeatedly throughout. I stood up, rubbing my bruised butt and squeezing my eyes shut when I heard a snap and felt a sharp pain in the bottom of my foot, then spent the next 46 seconds hopping around, trying to steady myself. My hand fell on the towel rail (thank God it wasn't turned on and hot) and i lent my back up against the wall, slowly sliding myself down to sit on the cold tiled floor. Noticing the amount of blood splattered on the pale blue tiles, I looked at my foot to see that it was bleeding a considerable amount. This fascinated me. For a while I let the warm liquid trickle down the underside of my foot into a small puddle that was forming next to me. It felt...good. Not fun or anything but strangely good. It helped me forget about some stuff for a while.
Snap out of it gerard.
I grabbed some tissue paper and wiped up the blood. The plasters were already on the floor as they were on the shelf that had fallen so I quickly grabbed one and winced as I carefully placed it over the small cut. I couldn't stay on the bathroom floor all night (I've tried it a couple of times, not a good idea. The neck doesn't seem to like it much) so I pushed myself up and started to rearrange the bathroom, otherwise Lyn-z would throw a fit if she got home from tour tomorrow to find the bathroom scattered all over the floor.
Jesus she has some weird shit in here. 'Anti-wrinkle cream' But she doesn't have any wrinkles! Who knows how much she has spent on this stuff. I just figured to leave it, roll my eyes dismissively and carry on cleaning. While I was gathering some more of her make up (I counted 7 lipsticks) I saw the item that was causing the stinging pain in the ball of my left foot. A light pink disposable razor that had been broken into mulitiple pieces under my body weight. I stood there, ust as mesmerised as I was with the blood, with the light from the fixture above my head reflecting off the smooth silve of the now released blade. The clock in the living room chimed five was what awoke me from my vivid imagination.
Seriously Gerard. Stop.
I quickly but carefully pucked up the now unusable razor and threw it's remains into the sink. The bathroom was now reasonably tidy so I limped into my unmade bed fully clothed and tired to sleep. Clearly my mind had different plans and instantly filled with thoughs of 'what ifs' and conversations that I would probably never have.
@p3rfect_f4ilur3
The links not working :(
1/6/14