GERARD

After I had finished in the back, I walked back out, hoping that Frank and his friends had left. Unfortunately for me, they hadn’t. Frank continued to tease me due to the stupid “treat customers with kindness” rule that I’m pretty sure Rick only has because he knows I’m not the nicest of people. What’s worse is that Rick left me alone to manage the store so he could take his kid to a doctor’s appointment. Normally I wouldn’t have minded, but today was the one day I didn’t want to be left alone in the store. Not with them.

I really needed a cigarette. I demanded one from Rick in return for manning the store, and he obliged. I slipped it in my pocket so I could smoke on my break.

I mostly played on my phone, doing my best to ignore the only other people in the store. I looked up every now and again just to make sure they weren’t breaking anything. The one in the fedora started creeping me out, though. He was just sitting there, staring at me, and then blushing and turning away whenever he realized I was looking back at him. Apparently Frank noticed, too, and went to confront him about it. I could hear very little of their hushed conversation, but what I did hear made my heart melt. It was the cutest giggle I had ever heard. It was so light and happy sounding. I was pretty sure it belonged to the fedora-wearing guy. I looked up then, trying to see if it really was Fedora Guy, but as soon as I turned my head in their direction, they stopped and Fedora Guy slunk back over to the guy I think is called Pete.

Frank walked up to me and started asking me questions. They were just random questions and I was really starting to get weirded out. That is, before he started playing with the pens at the front desk.

“Could you not do that?” I asked.

“I could, that doesn’t mean I will.” He said.

“Frank. Stop touching the pens.”

“Why? It’s not harming anything.”

“It’s harming my well-being.”

“Since when do I care about your well-being?” That’s right. Nobody cares about me. I had almost forgotten.

“Oh. I- I suppose that you’re right.” I stated.

“Gerard-” He started to say.

“No. No, you’re, uh. You’re right. You’ve never really cared about me. Why should you start now?”

“No, but I do care about you.” He was lying. After all, why would he care about me?

“Don’t fake it. Please. I’m just being annoying and selfish. Please, just, no.”

He went back to his friends and they left the store together.

I just sat there for a few minutes after they had left. Why did Frank not caring about me hurt so much? It’s not like I expected him to care. We’re enemies for crying out loud! Who actually cares about their enemy?

The cigarette in my pocket started calling to me. I grabbed the lighter Rick kept in the front and put a sign on the door to let any potential customers know that I’d be right back, and then headed out to the alleyway beside the building. I lit the cancer stick that I held between my fingers and put it to my mouth, taking a long drag. I looked at the gray sky as the smoke swirled up from my lips.

*****

I had been without my sketchbook for three days and it was really starting to take its toll on me. Hayley suggested I buy a new one, Mikey told me to “just draw in another one of your stupid notebooks,” and my dad told me to just forget about it because “drawing is for girls.” I don’t think they realize, it’s not just about drawing, it’s about the sketchbook itself. It’s something that I can tell my emotions to and it won’t ridicule me. It’s something that knows just how to comfort me. It’s something that’s been a better friend to me than anyone else has. You see, when it’s three a.m. and the dark thoughts that three a.m. holds start to sink in, most people would talk to a friend or family member. When that happens, I draw in my sketchbook instead because I don’t have a person I can talk to.

While it helps with depression, it also helps a lot with anxiety. I feel much more at ease when I watch the pencil glide across the page or when the drawing finally comes together.

Without my sketchbook, I was a mess, and I knew my friends could tell. Honestly, it would have been pretty hard not to suspect something was up with me. I just kind of stopped caring. I know it’s stupid to get this way over a sketchbook, but that sketchbook was my best friend.

I went to school the next day tired, depressed, and I looked like a complete slob. My eyes had dark circles under them, my hair stood straight up in random places on my head, my clothes looked like I got them out of a dumpster, and the smile that was normally on my face had disappeared.

I didn’t care that I had to sit next to Frank in first period. I just sat down and quietly did my work, discussing things with Frank here and there. The rest of the day was the same. I just didn’t care anymore. Not even choir or art could cheer me up, the two classes I actually kind of like.

Hayley dragged me to our table at lunch.

“Watch him. I don’t trust him by himself.” She commanded Andy and Ryan. They shared a concerned look between the two of them, but agreed and Hayley went to go get herself lunch.

“Eat.” Hayley demanded when she came back as she slid a tray of food in front of me.

“Not hungry.” I mumbled and slid the tray back.

“When was the last time you ate?” She questioned. I didn’t respond. “Exactly. Now eat.” She said, sliding the tray back to me.

“Not hungry.” I said again.

“Hayley, if he doesn’t want to eat, then don’t make him eat.” The previously silent Ryan shrugged.

“No, you don’t get it! Gerard, please eat!” She pleaded. I just stared at her as I was bombarded with memories I had tried for years to suppress.

Hayley and I had been friends since seventh grade. I had been the depressed loser no one wanted to talk to and she had been the new girl.

I was sitting in the library at lunch, and she had come in a few minutes before the bell rang. I briefly looked up at the color-crayon-red haired girl before looking back down at the comic I held in my hands.

“You know, I think Alfred is secretly a villain.” She sat down in front of me, nodding at my comic book.

“Oh yeah?” I said. I tried to sound bored so she’d go away, but she didn’t get the hint.

“Yeah. You know why?”

“I don’t know and I don’t care.” I replied in a monotone.

“It’s because in all the movies, the villain is always the butler.” She said and scooted closer to me.

“I’m gay.” I said and scooted away from her. Every time a girl talked to me, it was because they fancied me. While that might be awesome for some guys, it just made me uncomfortable.

“And?” She scoffed.

“And, are you going to kick me in the stomach or just sit there and make small talk?”

“Why would I kick you?” She asked.

“Because that’s what most people do.” I explained slowly, in case she was a bit slow.

“Well, I’m not most people. I’m Hayley.” She responded and stuck out her hand.

I set down my comic and cautiously shook her hand. “Gerard.” I said as the bell started to ring.

The next day she came into the library- again, and sat down in front of me- again.

“You weren’t in the cafeteria.” She stated

“I noticed.” I said sarcastically.

“Why?”

“’Cause I’d prefer to read.”

“But what about lunch?” She questioned.

“What about lunch?” I parroted.

“When do you eat?”

“I don’t.” I stated quietly.

“Why?”

“I’m just not hungry, okay?” I huffed.

“Why not?”

“Just drop it, Hayley.” I said, obviously irritated.

“You remembered my name!” She exclaimed.

“Shh!” The librarian warned.

“Sorry!” She whisper-yelled. I giggled a bit. “Did you just giggle?” She directed at me.

“Yeah. So?”

“Who actually giggles?” She mocked me.

“Well, clearly I do.” I defended myself. We joked around a bit more until the librarian kicked us out for being too loud.

We were forced outside onto the field, and I started panicking. The kids who liked to hurt me were out here and I didn’t want to have to explain to my family why I had another black eye.

Hayley noticed. She took me to the side and sat me down in the grass, away from the other kids.

“Gerard, what’s going on? How can I help you?” She said sternly, a tone of voice that didn’t suit her care-free style.

“They-they-they’re gonna beat me up a-again!” I stuttered, trying to regain the ability to breathe.

“No they’re not. You wanna know why?” I nodded my head. “’Cause I’m your friend, and I’m not gonna let them.”

I never had many friends. And in middle school, the ones I did have left me for other people they had more of a “connection” with. I never bothered making new ones. It would have been impossible anyways, because one of my old friends had decided to tell everyone I was gay. That didn’t settle well with the kids at my school and I was getting beat up regularly.

From that point on, Hayley would eat her lunch, and then come find me in the library, and every day she’d ask me why I didn’t eat, and every day I’d tell her to drop the subject. And honestly, I was happier than I had been in a long time.

“Do you have an eating disorder?” She asked me one day.

“What?!” I choked.

“’Cause I looked online to try and figure out why you don’t eat and that’s what came up.”

“Hayley, I do not have an eating disorder.” I stated.

“Okay, then why don’t you eat?” I stayed silent. “Exactly. Now, you are going to sit with me and eat something tomorrow or-“ She grabbed the sketchbook that was sitting beside me. “You won’t get your sketchbook back.”

Terror gripped at my throat. “Hayley, give me my sketchbook back!”

“Nope!” She said, and ran away. I didn’t see where, nor did I see her for the rest of the day.

The next day, I looked equally as bad, if not worse, than I did today. I was nervous as I looked for Hayley. I eventually found her and sat down in front of her.

“C-can I-I have my, um, my sketchbook back now?” I stuttered.

“Nope.” She said like it was nothing. “I need to see you eat first.” She handed me an apple. I held it in my hand and just stared at it. It’s been two weeks since I last ate. Three weeks before that. I was hungry, but I didn’t want to eat. My stomach growled at me, but I was still afraid of eating the apple. “Gerard, you either eat the apple, or you don’t get your sketchbook back.” Realizing what was at stake, I took a small bite from the apple. As promised, Hayley took my sketchbook from beside her and slid it across the table. The apple fell out of my hand and rolled against the table as I grabbed my sketchbook and hugged it to my chest. “You know, you look awful.” Hayley remarked.

“Well no duh!”

“Why?” She questioned. And I told her everything. I don’t know why, but I felt like I could trust her. She listened as I told her my tale of woe.

I had been able to talk to Hayley about my problems for a while, but then we started high school, I met Andy and Ryan, and I was happier than ever. Hayley was so happy for the both of us, and I didn’t want to let my stupid depression get in the way of her happiness, so I just stopped telling her what was going on.

“Gerard!” She shouted at me, pulling me from my trance. I looked at her as she held out an apple for me. She obviously remembered, too. I grabbed the apple and took a small bite.

“Can I have my sketchbook back now?” I asked bitterly, staring her straight in the eyes before standing up and going to the library.

Notes

So I finally got this chapter up. I feel this would be a good time to say that this fic is going to continue to be very triggering. For those of you who don't feel comfortable reading about this, we're not going to be mad if you stop reading. Just please make sure you stay safe.

Thank you guys for subscribing, rating (Holy cow! Why are we so highly rated?), and of course, commenting. This chapter actually made frank-iero-is-attractive cry, so let us know in the comments if it made you cry, too.

Stay Alive, Sunshine,
-Bluebell