Cries Not Heard
To Love and Despise Will Become Your Demise
Gerard’s POV
When Gerard woke up the next day, he was snug in between Frank and Mikey. He felt his chest warm, and mind was fuzzy. He liked this feeling, he decided. It felt like he belonged there. Gerard blushed heavily as he quickly got up, and headed to the bathroom. He couldn’t deny his attraction for Frank, but he was in a relationship with his brother -who he loved deeply- and didn’t want to be selfish by taking on another lover. He couldn’t do that to him. He decided the best thing to do would be to push his feelings to the back of his mind, and act as normal as possible.
Gerard was right when he thought that this hangout was going to be a problem. Everytime he denied food, Ray and Frank would look at him strangely. What teenager wouldn’t eat food? This one, Gerard answered in his mind. He gently combed his finger through his hair, ridding himself of the knots. Gerard could feel the familiar itch on his wrist. It was all becoming too much, too quickly. He wondered if he could get away with cutting. He didn’t want to be caught, and there were so many opportunities. He grabbed one of his many blades, and gazed at it. It would be just one cut… just one. He weighed his options. Sighing, he set the blade down, and headed back to his room where he quietly grabbed a pair of skinny jeans and a Green Day t-shirt. Everyone else was still asleep, so he tried to be as quiet as possible. He headed back to the bathroom where he proceeded to set down his clothes, and turn the shower on. He stripped down, grabbed his razor, and hopped in the shower. He turned the temperature the highest it would go, enjoying the burn the water brought him. Slowly, he washed his greasy hair, lathering it with soap before rinsing, then scrubbed his body clean. He scrubbed harder and harder, enjoying the sting it brought him. He deserved the pain. He deserved it for causing his brother worry, for burdening his family, for being a pain in the ass… for existing.
He eyed the razor. He picked it up and brought it to his face with an expression of utter sadness. Just one cut, that would be all it would take. You deserve this, he reminded himself. You must never forget that. He could feel the itch in his arm getting stronger, and he was desperate to relieve himself of it. The burning of the water and the stinging of the excessive rubbing wasn’t enough. He wanted more, needed more!
He twisted the blade in his hand, the metal glinting in the light. Slowly, he raised the blade to his wrist, and placed the tip to his arm. He dragged the razor across his arm, gasping in a mixture of pain, relief, and delight. He watched in morbid fascination as blood welled up from the cut, and pooled on his arm. He watched as it inched its way down his arm before slowly dripping off his elbow and into the water. He watched as the blood would slowly diffuse into the water before being sucked up into the drain. He felt the itch return to his now bleeding, crimson covered arm. It wasn’t enough. One cut just wasn’t enough. He raised the blade to his arm once more before adding another gash, and another. Before he knew it, he had four deep cuts scattered on his arm. Blood was now quickly flowing, and dripping of his arm, the water becoming a pale pink. He turned the water off, and quickly got out, grabbing a bloodied cloth that he kept hidden from Mikey and his parents. The blood was from past sessions of cutting. The blotches of red ranged from deep, dark red -almost brown- to scarlet from recent sessions. He ignored the stain in favor of using the cloth to stop the bleeding. Applying pressure to the wounds, he searched through the bathroom for stuff to clean the wounds, gauze, and tape. He took off the cloth, and rinsed the blood of his hand before applying Neosporin. He didn’t want them to get get infected. It would be just another liability. He already had many more cuts than he expected. He dressed the cuts before quickly getting dressed. He put on his jacket, and rinsed as much of the blood out of the cloth as he could before wringing it out and hiding it once more. He checked the shower to see if there was any blood that didn’t get washed away. He left once sure there no evidence.
When he returned to his room, the boys were just getting up, stretching groggily. Mikey walked over to him, and gave him a bear hug before pecking him on the lips.
“Morning, Gee.”
“Morning, babe,” Gerard replied.Gerard went into the kitchen, and began making God’s gift to the world -coffee- while the others got dressed. Mikey came down first and flopped on the couch, waiting for the other’s to join him. Gerard plopped down beside him. It wasn’t long for the others to join. They were soon all gathered together in the living room, each nursing a mug of coffee.
“What should we do for breakfast?” Mikey asked, looking at Gerard in discrete. Oh, great, now I have to worry about food, he complained.
“Wanna go out?” Ray asked.
“I’m up for that,” Frank replied. Gerard shrugged in feigned indifference. Inside, Gerard was a mess. There were so many opportunities to be caught, not just of his disorder, but of his destructive habit. Gerard was on the verge of a mental meltdown. He could feel the palms of his hands begin to sweat, and he was shaking, though not noticeably.
“Sure,” he said.
When Gerard woke up the next day, he was snug in between Frank and Mikey. He felt his chest warm, and mind was fuzzy. He liked this feeling, he decided. It felt like he belonged there. Gerard blushed heavily as he quickly got up, and headed to the bathroom. He couldn’t deny his attraction for Frank, but he was in a relationship with his brother -who he loved deeply- and didn’t want to be selfish by taking on another lover. He couldn’t do that to him. He decided the best thing to do would be to push his feelings to the back of his mind, and act as normal as possible.
Gerard was right when he thought that this hangout was going to be a problem. Everytime he denied food, Ray and Frank would look at him strangely. What teenager wouldn’t eat food? This one, Gerard answered in his mind. He gently combed his finger through his hair, ridding himself of the knots. Gerard could feel the familiar itch on his wrist. It was all becoming too much, too quickly. He wondered if he could get away with cutting. He didn’t want to be caught, and there were so many opportunities. He grabbed one of his many blades, and gazed at it. It would be just one cut… just one. He weighed his options. Sighing, he set the blade down, and headed back to his room where he quietly grabbed a pair of skinny jeans and a Green Day t-shirt. Everyone else was still asleep, so he tried to be as quiet as possible. He headed back to the bathroom where he proceeded to set down his clothes, and turn the shower on. He stripped down, grabbed his razor, and hopped in the shower. He turned the temperature the highest it would go, enjoying the burn the water brought him. Slowly, he washed his greasy hair, lathering it with soap before rinsing, then scrubbed his body clean. He scrubbed harder and harder, enjoying the sting it brought him. He deserved the pain. He deserved it for causing his brother worry, for burdening his family, for being a pain in the ass… for existing.
He eyed the razor. He picked it up and brought it to his face with an expression of utter sadness. Just one cut, that would be all it would take. You deserve this, he reminded himself. You must never forget that. He could feel the itch in his arm getting stronger, and he was desperate to relieve himself of it. The burning of the water and the stinging of the excessive rubbing wasn’t enough. He wanted more, needed more!
He twisted the blade in his hand, the metal glinting in the light. Slowly, he raised the blade to his wrist, and placed the tip to his arm. He dragged the razor across his arm, gasping in a mixture of pain, relief, and delight. He watched in morbid fascination as blood welled up from the cut, and pooled on his arm. He watched as it inched its way down his arm before slowly dripping off his elbow and into the water. He watched as the blood would slowly diffuse into the water before being sucked up into the drain. He felt the itch return to his now bleeding, crimson covered arm. It wasn’t enough. One cut just wasn’t enough. He raised the blade to his arm once more before adding another gash, and another. Before he knew it, he had four deep cuts scattered on his arm. Blood was now quickly flowing, and dripping of his arm, the water becoming a pale pink. He turned the water off, and quickly got out, grabbing a bloodied cloth that he kept hidden from Mikey and his parents. The blood was from past sessions of cutting. The blotches of red ranged from deep, dark red -almost brown- to scarlet from recent sessions. He ignored the stain in favor of using the cloth to stop the bleeding. Applying pressure to the wounds, he searched through the bathroom for stuff to clean the wounds, gauze, and tape. He took off the cloth, and rinsed the blood of his hand before applying Neosporin. He didn’t want them to get get infected. It would be just another liability. He already had many more cuts than he expected. He dressed the cuts before quickly getting dressed. He put on his jacket, and rinsed as much of the blood out of the cloth as he could before wringing it out and hiding it once more. He checked the shower to see if there was any blood that didn’t get washed away. He left once sure there no evidence.
When he returned to his room, the boys were just getting up, stretching groggily. Mikey walked over to him, and gave him a bear hug before pecking him on the lips.
“Morning, Gee.”
“Morning, babe,” Gerard replied.Gerard went into the kitchen, and began making God’s gift to the world -coffee- while the others got dressed. Mikey came down first and flopped on the couch, waiting for the other’s to join him. Gerard plopped down beside him. It wasn’t long for the others to join. They were soon all gathered together in the living room, each nursing a mug of coffee.
“What should we do for breakfast?” Mikey asked, looking at Gerard in discrete. Oh, great, now I have to worry about food, he complained.
“Wanna go out?” Ray asked.
“I’m up for that,” Frank replied. Gerard shrugged in feigned indifference. Inside, Gerard was a mess. There were so many opportunities to be caught, not just of his disorder, but of his destructive habit. Gerard was on the verge of a mental meltdown. He could feel the palms of his hands begin to sweat, and he was shaking, though not noticeably.
“Sure,” he said.
Notes
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2/7/16