It's Not a Fashion Statement

I glance at the clock. 5.56 am. It’s been nearly three hours now, three hours of mind numbing self-blame and pity. Three hours, I have been wallowing on to myself inside my brain, making a mental list of why the little angel in my arms is too good for me. Three fucking hours of reflecting on all the bad decisions I’ve made, until now, I’ve finally fucking fallen into the big black hole inside my head, and I’m giving up fighting it. I’m fucking on the edge and I really need something to numb the pain and the guilt consuming me.

I can’t even look at Frankie, all I feel is a something that can only be described as a stab in the chest. Culpability drowns me every time I even glance at the slits in his neck.
My entire fault…
He wouldn’t have been in any pain if it weren’t for you always fucking up, Gerard. I repeat to myself, finally making up my mind of what I’m going to do. As reluctant as I am about it, there’s also an even bigger argument conversing in my head, forcing me to go on and just do it.
I kiss Frankie on the forehead, bushing his soft strands of chestnut brown hair out of his eyes and carefully unwrapping his limp arms from around my waist. I feel like my hands sting when ever I touch him, I’m just so fucking repulsed by my own self, that no matter what, I feel like it’s wrong, what I’m doing.
I gently lift his head up off my chest and place it back down onto the pillow, cringing when my hands brush his delicate skin.
He stirs in his sleep, inhaling a deep breath and fidgeting before making grabby hands and muttering ‘Gee’. God, how I would love to just let his arms snake back around my body… but how I’d also fucking love a drink to wash away this loathing, self hatred I’m overwhelmed in.
He mutters again, and I grab a pillow and softly force that into his arms. I don’t expect it to work, but when he wraps his arms around the pillow as if it were my waist, he snuggles his head down into and drifts back into deep sleep. I regret leaving his side now, fucking pillow taking my little Frankie from me. It’s my fault anyway.
I slide off the bed carefully, as slow as possible. I don’t want Frankie waking up, one, I don’t want to disturb him, and two, if he saw me he would stop me from drinking, and I really fucking need something… just some form of relief.
I stand up and feel the bed rise back up from where it dipped around my body. I check over my shoulder, still a softly snoring Frankie clutching to the pillow and smiling softly as he nuzzles his head into the side of the cushion. If only he knew how bad I am for him, he wouldn’t be squeezing the bedding as tight, he wouldn’t want to be anywhere near the monster I am. But like I said, I’m fucking selfish and I can’t just let him go like that.

I carefully tip toe to the door, until I realise I should leave a note if he wakes up, like ‘emergency at work’ or something along the lines.

I lean over to my bedside table, where conveniently placed, there is a pen and a notebook.
I tear a page out and write a sweet note, telling him I’ve had to go to work early and I’ll be back soon, and I’ll bring him back some fresh coffee and pancakes, which I will, because I’ll feel bad that I left him. I draw a little love heart and a cartoon doodle of a puppy with an ‘xoxog’ at the end of the note. I fold it up and place it on the pillow where my head is meant to be.

I quietly make my way back out of the room and downstairs, grabbing my keys and phone as I head out of the door. The air is chilling and cold, refreshing, like being in a forest at night. It’s still dark and the moon is looming over the drive, highlighting the puddles that dot over the uneven slabs of concrete. I inhale a deep breath, already feeling slightly better. Maybe I won’t need a drink… but as soon as I even consider it I realise how much I fucking need it and I carry on down the road anyway.

I enter the little corner shop (the one near where Frankie was attacked at… because of me.) and pick out a huge glass bottle of vodka. I pay at the till, after showing my license, and leave with the bottle in hand.
“Mix with an un-alcoholic beverage”
I laugh under my breath and click the cap open, the thick scent immediately hitting my nostrils. I lick my lips, thirsty for the goodness.

I take a swig, the syrup sliding down my throat and refreshing my mouth. Even though it tastes pretty gross, it also makes you feel fucking amazing, and that’s all that matters right now.

I wander around the alleyways behind the shop, until I find a spot I like. It’s against a wall and it’s well hidden in the shadows of the trees that block the moonlight. I sink down into my knees, groaning as I hit the cold floor. I’m still wearing yesterday’s clothes, my hair is a mess and I’m sat here at 6.15 am necking down a bottle of vodka.
After a good five minutes I glance down at the bottle and notice half has already gone. I shrug and take another gulp. I hold it up to read the back of the bottle, squinting an eye, trying to figure out what is written. I can’t read anything, my eyes are so fuzzy and my head is killing me.
It’s not meant to feel bad until the next day… I only started drinking twenty minutes ago. This time is usually the peak, when everything just feels fucking great. But instead, I need to throw up.

I gag and chuck up my stomach contents over the side, only just missing my legs. Fuck… what was I thinking? Just recklessly drinking over half a bottle of pure vodka? I could get myself killed doing that. That wasn’t the plan. My plan was to take my mind of things.
I think?
I don’t even remember what things anymore. Maybe it did work then. Or maybe I’m just confused. Yeah. I should drink more.

I knock back another few gulps of the vodka, burning my throat and causing my stomach to churn. I cough and splutter, feeling the urge to throw up again. Gerard, you’re a fucking genius.
I lean my head against the cold wall, breathing deep and controlled, until I slip into an unconscious state.
-
I stare back into the mirror, through my fuzzy, tear filled eyes. I scrub my hands with the soap, until they’re bright red and almost bleeding. I didn’t kill someone; Gerard way did not kill someone. I repeat, my throat sore and dry. I splash my tearstained face with water, and then smash it against the glass. I just want to wake up from this nightmare. Please.

I look back up, staring right back into my dark-circled, tired, puffy, red eyes. My breath gets caught in my throat, realizing this is me, I’m not going to just wake up and it isn’t just going to turn out a dream.
I sob, the tears rolling down my red cheeks. Mikey hasn’t talked to me since he picked me up; I have no idea why he even came for me in the first place, he knows it was me who killed his friend. His fucking friend, how could he even care enough to find me after knowing his own brother was responsible for a murder. His fucking friends murder. My lip quivers, a whole new wave of shame, guilt, self-hatred washing over me and drowning me until I fall to the floor. I gasp for air, sobbing dramatically, hauls of air racking my body, causing me to double over and throw up over the toilet.

And that’s when I decide; I need to sober the fuck up.
-
I jolt awake, breathing heavy. I look around, fucking confused as hell. It’s raining? I look down at my palms and notice smashed glass all around me. I look back up, taking in the surroundings. Oh, now I remember what happened.


The sky is dark, and the rain is fucking pouring down. There’s no use going out in the rain to just walk ten minutes to my house, it’ll probably have stopped by then anyway, so I might as well wait. What time even is it? It must be past breakfast, maybe even lunch. In fact, probably dinner too.

I shrug, leaning my aching head back against the wall as I wait for the rain to calm down. There’s the smashed bottle all around me, littering my sides, I probably dropped it out of my hands when I fell asleep.
I pick up a piece and examine the sides, the sharp blade gleaming from the sparkling rainwater. Frankie got his neck sliced open by something like this, which was all my fault. But just think of all the damage it could do…
I jump when I hear a clap of thunder, a sudden lightning bold striking in the distance.
Lightning storms are really pretty, but they’re also really scary, especially when you’re sat outside in it.

I rub my thumb back over the shard of glass, feeling the cold sharp edge against my thumb.

With out even thinking about it, I lower the glass to my wrist and pull it back, feeling a sting yet an odd thrill curse through me.
I don’t even have time to think before I do it again, sliding it back and forth like I’m just tracing patterns on my skin.
I laugh under my breath and look down, suddenly horrified when the realization dawns on me.
What is Frankie going to think? What will mikey think? God, what have I done?
Water mixes in with my blood curdled wrists, stinging them and washing away some of the blood.
And now I can feel the pain.
Of course Frankie isn’t going to want a mess like me. I think I’m making things better, I tell myself drinking and lying around my mistakes will just make things ok. But it never does, and I still haven’t learnt that. Gerard you’re a fucking idiot.

The rain calms down, so that it’s now just a drizzle and the air is cold. I can walk home in this.
I push myself up onto my feet, my wrists stinging and my head pounding.
How am I going to cover for this? He’ll probably see me walking into the house.
I know, I’ll just go through the back (if he’s in the front room), then go upstairs, put a jumper on, change into fresh clothes, and quickly brush my teeth. I’ll walk back through the front door like I’ve just got home, and he’ll have nothing to worry about, he won’t have to know what happened. What you don’t know can’t hurt you, right?

I know Frankie would be upset about this, I know how much it would hurt him if he were to find out. That’s the last thing I want to do. So, he doesn’t have to know. It’s not like I’m even lying that much, I mean, it’s only a one-time thing.

I turn the corner, making my way down my road to my house. As soon as I’m up the drive, I realise all the lights are off and no one is even in the front room, I might as well just go through there, and hope he isn’t in our room.

I fumble with the keys in my shaky hands, shivering as the cold, bleak December night’s frost nips at my skin. My wrists are numb and stinging, and my head it still throbbing. I just want to curl into Frankie’s arms and not feel bad about lying and getting drunk, not feel bad about not being good enough for him.

I turn the keys and walk into the house, my breathing heavy and jagged. The warm air hits me and I breathe in the familiar homely scent. A whole new wave of guilt washes over me. I was trying to be sober and I just gave up that fucking easily.

I slowly plod up the stairs, too exhausted to move any quicker. I slowly push the bedroom open, checking for Frankie, but the room is dark and empty like all the others. I shrug and make my way over to the sink to clean my face and brush my teeth.

I flick the too bright light on and wince as the spotlight stings my bloodshot eyes.
I step in front of the mirror and gasp, the image before me causing me to cringe.
My eyes are practically purple; the huge bags under them making me look dead. My skin is pale and covered in dirt. My shirt is soaking and parts of it are covered in either sick or mud.
My hairs lopsided and messy, dirty and greasy, like I just stuck my head into a pan of McDonald’s fries.
I rub my face and sigh, wondering how I got myself into this mess. I catch a glimpse of my red arms in the mirror, almost jumping at the picture portrayed in the glass.
I look at my hands, the dirt and what ever else making me feel sick. I run the tap and scrub my hands under it, itching to feel clean again.
I stare into the reflection of my eyes, and I feel like I’ve just ended up back where I started, all those years ago, and the person in the mirror is shaking their head, disappointed I’ve failed, once again.
I decide that I should have a quick shower, hoping Frankie either isn’t here or doesn’t hear the water running.
I strip and stand under the spray of water, almost moaning as the sensation of clean water washes over my dirty skin.
That is, until the hot water gets into my cuts and causes me to wince at the sting that I no longer wish to feel.
I pull my hand away, out of the line of spray, squeaking because of the pain.

I get a grip of myself, and squeeze the shampoo onto my palm, lathering it into my hair. The fresh coconut scent drifts up my nostrils and it feels amazing.

After a good wash, I turn the shower off and dry myself, brush my teeth and use mouthwash. Maybe I should get a coffee too, and maybe be even stand outside for a bit so that I look like I’ve just been in the rain.

I change into a baggy wool jumper, one of Frankie’s huge ones, and tight black jeans. It makes my legs look really thin compared to my bulky upper half being drowned in the too big jumper.

Just as I leave the door, I hear another door open and what sounds like multiple pairs of feet shuffle through.
I hide behind the second floor banister, around the corner, ready to listen to what is being said.

I hear a familiar sobbing, Frankie, of course. I didn’t want this to happen, why is he even crying?
And another voice… mikey?

“Mikey… I just want him, I don’t know where he is and I’m scared, I’m so scared mikey-“
Another jolt of excruciating sobs sound through the dark living room.
I feel like my heart is torn open, I’ve caused this. See, he’d be better off without me.

Mikey shushes him, trying to confirm to him that I’m all right, but I can tell there’s uncertainty in his voice too.

The door opens again, and another presence joins the open living room.
“What’s up guys?”
Crap, Andy.
I cross my fingers and pray he won’t mention my absence from work.
“Gerard’s missing and I’m trying to calm Frankie down. I mean, of course he’s going to be perfectly fine, yeah?”
It’s meant to be confirming, but it sound more like a question.
I peak around the corner, my heart wrenching at the sight before me. Frankie’s crying his eyes out, clung to Mikey’s chest as if his life depends on it. Mikey softly brushes franks hair out between his fingers, in order to comfort him.
Change of plan.
I decide it’s probably best I make an appearance before they call the police or something. That wouldn’t go down well. I can just say I got back whilst they were out and I just got a shower.

“Guys!” I rush down the stairs, throwing on a smile.

Frankie looks up, his teary eyes lighting up when he sees me. He lets go of mikey and runs up to me, throwing his arms around my waist and sobbing into my chest. I tug him into my embrace feeling extremely guilty.

“Can I ask… what’s going on?”
I request, innocently.
“See Frankie, I told you he’s be alright.”

I pull a confused face, raising and eyebrow in Mikey’s direction.
“Are you oaky?” he asks, concerned. I nod and smile in reassurance. We fall into a really awkward silence, whilst I struggle to keep the fake smile plastered to my face and refrain from pulling my stinging arms out of Frankie’s grip.

Mikey shrugs and nods, awkwardly declaring his exit, Andy following out the door. Phew, thank fuck I escaped that one.

Frankie sniffles, tucking his head into the crook of my neck.
I stroke a hand up and down his back comforting him.

“I was so worried, gee. I’ve never been so scared in my life” he sniffs, breaking my heart as he looks into my eyes so lovingly.

I gulp back the tears forming, trying not to let my cover slide.
“Why?” I stutter.

“I thought you had done something really stupid, like drinking again or something. I was so worried, I knew you wouldn’t… I just… sorry I should’ve known you’re better than that-“

The words hit like a bullet.

I take a deep breath in and sigh, only humming in response. I can’t form words, and even if I tried I’d just end up breaking into sobs. I breathe in Frankie’s sent, loving the feel of his body tucked into mine. I just wish I could love the fact he holds me back.

Notes

i had to re upload this, as i only briefly mentioned trigger warning and i've been trying to edit the chapter for the last hour, but it wouldn't work and i finanlly managed to gt edit to load and let me reupload instead, sorry xo