The Good Samaritan

Alive Adjective Continuing in existence

Even though Gerard was alive he never felt that way. He felt lost and trapped at the same time. He felt like he was wandering aimlessly like a dark cloud floating among a blue sky. He was the epitome of unhappiness. Yet he had no reason to be unhappy. To any onlooker he was a normal happy twenty-something with a bright future ahead. But to him...when he looked in the mirror or caught his reflection in the glass doors at work or he found himself drifting into the dark parts of his thoughts he saw the real him the real Gerard Way.

Depression Noun A mental condition characterized by feelings of severe despondency and dejection, typically also with feelings of inadequacy and guilt, often accompanied by lack of energy and disturbance of appetite and sleep.

Gerard Way was clinically depressed. It wasn't like he was just sad. That's what people thought. They thought he was just sad and needed cheered up. But when really inside it was like...it was unexplainable.

He felt worthless, like he wasn't needed in the world anymore. He felt as if nobody really wanted him and that if he were to die, and that was an extremely desirable outcome to him, then no one notice until the smell started to disturb the neighbours. But you see no one really thought that. He had friends. He didn't have much family after his grandma died and left him this big lonely house. But he had friends and colleagues, however in Gerard's mind they were all made through sympathy. They were only pretending.

Sleep wasn't enjoyable or a constant in his life. Sleep was a way to avoid everything. Sleep was an escape from his mind, but then sometimes he had dreams. The dreams were even more frightening than the thoughts when he was awake. Then there were the recurring hallucinations.

He would wake up in the middle of the night or sometimes day and be surrounded by people. They had scrubs on and masks covering their faces. They would all start to push needles into his skin and he could feel the metal push against him and pierce through his pale from. The metal was cold and invading and he would scream for help, but that's the thing. This wasn't a dream this was all happening while he was awake. He would try to rip the masks off and it would reveal their piranha like teeth grinning at him like they were enjoying his torture. He'd scream and thrash around and cause havoc. Once he was staying at his old childhood home and he had one of those episodes and his mother heard him screaming and crying out and when she came into his room she witnessed her son reacting to an empty room like it was the root of all evil. Ever since then he didn't talk much with him mother. Or his brother.

Anxiety Noun A nervous disorder marked by excessiveness, uneasiness and apprehension, typically with compulsive behaviour or panic attacks.

Suffering from both anxiety and depression simultaneously causes a variety of mood swings. It's like being pushed under water and fighting to get above to the surface and trying to survive, but at the same time you want to engulf the water because you don't care. You want to drown in the fear of dying. So while you battle these thoughts and try to come to a decision, you die anyway because your mind was too occupied in fighting itself to try and survive.

'I feel like I'm drowning.' He mumbled into the receiver of his old telephone. This was a terrible idea. But Dr A said it would help him. She said that talking to a stranger on the phone about your issues when you are feeling at your lowest will help him.

'And hello to you too.' The man on the other end chuckled. His voice was so calming. It was like a cool breeze on a hot and humid day. It relieved him in a second. His shoulders relaxed into the tiles behind him and his stern set jaw moulded into a face of content unhappiness.

'I'm sorry, I don't know how this works.' He just dialled the number before he could stop himself. He was in a bad place. He'd had the urge to cut again and he took his therapists advice. He called the helpline.

'It's cool. So, basically you can give me your name. Only if you want too and then we can talk about your situation or condition or if you don't want to get personal we can just talk.' The man seemed like he cares though Gerard guesses he gets paid to be nice.

'I'm Gee, I am 22 and I am an artists. And of two hours ago I was 6 months clean and now I'm sitting in my bath tub with an old dial telephone I found in a vintage store three years ago with a makeshift bandage on my left wrist.' Gerard flinched slightly at his outpouring. He was ready to be judged or even worst patronised.

'Man, don't you own a cell phone? It's 2016 get with the times.' The guy giggled sending a little shiver up Gerards back and for the first time in months he laughed. He felt bad for feeling even a little bit happy. He didn't deserve to smile.

'I, I don't want anyone to know who I am. If I use my cell then someone could recognise it.' He seemed paranoid, but that was a another symptom of the anxiety disorder.

'Oh, I understand. So Gerard, the first thing I'm wondering here is...' The line went silent for a moment and Gerard waited for a response. 'Is your wound okay? Was the blade clean and are you bleeding a lot.' He called it a wound instead of a cut. It made Gerard feel better. More normal. He nodded and gasped a bit before uttering anything back.

'Yes...yes I am fine.' He heard the guy mumble and then there was some awkward silence. The guy on the other side was use to this. Gerard was not. He needed something to fill the soundless gap between the two. So he clicked his music on shuffle. Music always helped.

'Hey, is that Smashing Pumpkins?' Gerard hummed a yes and the guy burst into a a long blur of dialogue. 'God, I love them! That's 1979 right? God Melancholy is my favourite album. It's like all the emotions put into one album. It's like the pixies...have you listened to pixies?'

'No' Gerard mumbled more interested in what the guy was saying rather than talking himself. 'L

'Oh man! You gotta listen to their album 'Surfer Rosa' man that is the album!' The guys New Jersey brawl vibrated through the speaker and whirled around Gerard's brain hitting his hippocampus and filling it up with that lacking serotonin.

'Yeah? I might check it out.' Gerard whispered feeling an overwhelming need to listen to this strangers voice. Like he was mentally clawing at the phone for more sounds and seeking out the little clicks in his voice and the rise and fall of the pitch in his New Jersey accent.

'Sorry, is there anything you wanna talk about? Like what triggered these feelings.'

'No! No.....' Gerard played with the curly wire cord that connected the phone to the body.

'What do you wanna talk about?' He didn't seemed dazed by Gerard's outburst, but then again he was bound to be use to it.

'I don't wanna talk anymore.' Gerard muttered bluntly.

'Oh....well. I guess...' He seemed hurt and defeated.

'No, I didn't mean it that way. I just...' Gerard considered telling this stranger than his voice made him feel better, but then decided against it. 'I mean that I feel better. You helped me.' Gerard wasn't lying. He did feel better. The cut was still hissing with pain and he was still lying in his bath, but apart from that he felt good.

'Well. Then I guess this is goodbye Gerard.' The man seemed much happier then. Like his happiness depended on Gerard's mood.

'Goodbye....' Gerard laughed quietly. 'I didn't catch your name.' He whispered into the receiver pressing pressing his lips against the old yellowing phone.

'Well, I hope you won't need to know it. Hopefully you won't have to call here again.' And then the line went dead. In an instant Gerard felt like every bit of sadness left his body. He felt like he wanted to go for a walk and breathe in all the freshness of New Jersey and live. He left the old yellowing phone in the bath tub and pulled on a hoodie and got ready to face the world.

He thought about that phone call for a long time. He thought about how much just talking to someone seemed to lift him out of his pit even if it was only for a short while. He hoped too that he wouldn't have to phone again because he didn't want to feel that bad again.

Two weeks later was when he phoned that number for the second time.

It was a Friday night. The rain was pounding against his little glass window that sometimes allowed a little bit of light into his dark and gloomy room. Even though he had the big old house to himself he barely ever used the other rooms. Just the kitchen the and the bathroom next to his room in the basement. The little window was up in the top corner of his room and he could hear the wind roaring and taring apart the blades of grass and the droplets of rain. He was snuggled deep into his bed covers and was watching the old TV set that was on the floor in the centre of the room. It was set on the news channel and Gerard couldn't find the remote. As the TV droned on about the storm hitting New Jersey and for everyone to stay indoors...

Today was bad. Today was one thing after an other.

He bumped into his brother at the local grocer. Gerard had been wandering around the little store for at least forty minutes aimlessly because it was just one of the bad days. That was when his curled up frame collided with a taller one. He gazed up cautiously ready to utter an apology when he caught a glimpse of those familiar eyes. He gasped a little and took a step back. There in front of him was his not so little little brother. With his power suit and his briefcase.

'Hello, Gerard.' The taller of the two spat slightly looking his brother up and down. That's when Gerard realised he hadn't washed in a while and he was wearing pain splattered baggy jeans and an old hoodie with holes in it. He tucked his greasy hair behind one ear and gave a weak smile as a response. 'How are you?' He said automatically. Because Mikey was like that; proper.

'I'm good, you?' Gerard whispered his mousy words down towards his feet rather than at his brother.

'I'm great actually.' He said smiling down at his brother smugly. 'Me and Kristin got married last month and mums moved in with us.' Gerard's heart broke in that moment into a million pieces. He didn't even get an invite to his own brothers wedding.

'That's good.' He lied. His throat began to tighten and he felt tears rim his eyes as he could feel Mikey's eyes bore down on him. He was enjoying it.

'Anyway, I gotta get back to the office. Bills to pay, mouths to feed and a beautiful wife to go back to.' Mikey said moving past his brother and walking down the isle leaving Gerard shaking and trying to keep in the tears. He didn't like the way his relationship with his brother had spiralled into such murky depths that he seemed to despise his so much that he liked to cause him pain.

He didn't even make it back to his street before he broke down. He had to stop the car outside his house and lean his head against the steering wheel until his mind stopped pounding and his tears stopped flowing. He made it inside just as the rain started. He didn't even discard his shoes or hoodie when he walked in Gerard just marched down the stairs into his basement dwelling and into the bathroom where the phone was still sitting untouched since the last time. Beside the old phone was scrawled number of a pink sticky note like the stack that sat upon his therapists desk.

Her little room in the side of the hospital with her inspirational quotes in wooden frames and her cheery smile and matching stationary. The thought made his heart settle.

His shaky hands didn't even hesitate as he punched the numbers in and listened to the monotone ring.

Ring.

Ring.

Ring. After the third vibration the phone picked up and Gerard breathe hitched as he waited for the person in the other side to speak.

'Hello?' Was it just Gerard's luck or did every support worked sound the same.

'It's Gerard.' He said quietly before he inwardly cringed. The guy wouldn't of remembered him he probably gets hundreds of calls. What makes Gerard so special that he would have remembered him.

'Oh, what did I say about you calling back here?' The guy said amusedly and that caused Gerard to perk up slightly.

'What's your name?' Gerard didn't seem to understand common curtesy today. He waited as the guy seemed to have to think about it. He'd probably give Gerard a fake name just throw him off the scent and make sure he didn't get himself a stalker.

'Frank.' The man said simply and Gerard's heart fluttered slightly. It seemed to fit his voice perfectly. Frank. He thought about it for a moment before he was going to speak again.

'What's wrong Gerard?' Franks voice seemed to lift Gerard from his misty thoughts to clear and open answer. He was sad. No devastated.

'My, my brother. I saw him today.' Gerard inhaled deeply and tried to think of something cheery and happy to think of as he recalled this other memory. He thought about him and Mikey when they were younger. Just doing brotherly stuff. Being happy. 'He got married.' He chuckled bitterly. 'And didn't even think to invite me to the wedding. The hate me. My entire family disowned me. Because of who I am.' Gerard held back the tears thinking happy thoughts. Think happy thoughts....

'Well, Gerard, I'm not going to bullshit and tell you that they love you really and that everything's gonna be fine. Because it isn't. And I can't tell you what to do either, but I can say that family is one of the most underrated things. Your family are meant to accept you for no matter what and if they don't then that's their problem. Not yours.' Frank mumbled quietly as if they were having some intimate conversation. 'And you have friends right?' He laughed slightly at himself. 'Of course you do. You're a catch.' Gerard giggled slightly feeling a blush creep onto his face and manifest his pale complexion. 'If you don't mind, Gerard, I'd like to ask you about why your family aren't accepting of you. You see, the issues your family seem to have with you will mirror the issues you have with yourself. Issues which are nonexistent.' Gerard nodded clearing his throat and trying to unscramble his thoughts.

'I'm gay. I guess that's the main point.' Gerard laughed shaking his head and leaning his head against the tiles in his bathroom. 'And I'm a failed artist living in a weird, old house that belonged to my late Grandma, so I don't actually need that a steady job and so my mom thinks that art isn't a serious career choice.' Gerard couldn't breathe. He was rambling and spiralling and, he wiped his cheek and sighed pitifully, crying it would seem.

'Gee, listen.' Gerard's eyes went wide and the Nickname the man he barely knew used. 'I know how it feels. I too am more accustomed to the creative industry. I'm a musician. Now, even though I cannot understand your families impact on your thoughts of yourself, I do, in fact, understand that being successful in the creative industry is fucking rough. But know that passion gets you there. And not your family. This is your families opinion or you; not your own.' Frank smiled and sighed waiting for Gerard's response.

'Thank you. I thought you were some boring guy who wasn't smart enough to be a therapist.' He giggled playing with the cord of the old phone.

'That's extremely offensive!' Frank chuckled. 'No, you don't have to have any qualifications to do this. It's voluntary.'

'You just do this out of the goodness of your heart?' Gerard was slightly shocked. He thought Frank got paid to just sit and listen to people's problems.

'I mean, yeah. I've dealt with stuff in the past and it helps me to help others and I can see and understand what people feel.' Franks tone went from that of the cheery, happy go lucky guy Gerard had be accustomed too to mirroring the sadness of his own.

'I like talking to you.' He didn't know what to say to he uttered the truth quietly as he stared up at his shower head wondering how the hell he ended up here.

'Wait.' Frank broke the silence the two were sharing suddenly pulling Gerard from his daze. 'Are you in your bath again?' He laughed.

'Umm, yes.' Gerard muttered confusedly. 'How did you..' He was cut off by Frank.

'The echo.' Oh, Gerard thought, obviously. 'Maybe, we can work on you not having meltdowns in your bath?' This caused them both to giggle. The moment of laughter shared between the two seemed to settle them both and the equal feeling only comfort was apparent. 'Are you still using that old phone?' Frank asked through the laughter.

'Yes.' Gerard smiled down at the old thing tracing his fingers along the aged lined and dents in the beautiful thing.

'Can you not just use your cell?' Frank was still baffled by the use of the old telephone. Though he was utterly baffled by the mysterious boy on the other end just as much.

'Is this you trying to get my number Frankie?' Gerard giggled into phone taken aback by his new found confidence.

'I mean...maybe.' Frank teased wondering what was so endearing about the boy in his bathtub.

'I like the phone. It's now called Frank.' He smiled looking down at the pretty thing. He stared down at his own cell noticing at that moment that it was 2am. 'Oh, I didn't even notice the time.' He had to be up for a meeting tomorrow.

'Oh, yeah? I do the nightshift you see.' He could hear him shift on the other end of the line. 'Have you gotta go?' Frank sounded melancholy and tired.

'Yeah, I gotta meeting tomorrow.' Gerard said mirroring the mans tone.

'If you need to talk again. Gee, phone okay? Don't hesitate. And ask for me, okay?' Frank muttered quietly. Gerard nodded smiling.

'Yes, definitely. Good night Frankie.' He whispered into the receiver pressing his lips to his slightly.

'Night Gee.' And then the line went dead.

Notes

Wow, so much for taking a break. I've got one exam left and I write during breaks from studying, but instead of writing my main fics I wrote this. It'll be a three part thingy. Enjoy. -C