The Sharpest Lives

He moved at a steady pace, in a hurry to get home, but careful to take his steps with caution in effort to avoid slipping on the ice. New York City was basically a sheet of ice this time of year, all the trees barren, apart from the icicles forming from the melted snow on the branches. It was that time of year when it warmed up just enough to melt the season’s snowfall during the day, and then freeze it into an ice rink after dusk. Gerard would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy the winter; it’s not that he liked slipping and falling on ice, or walking into work with soaked pant legs from the wet snow – he hated those things as much as the next guy. But, Gerard did like the cold. He felt at peace in the winter.
The foliage was dead, much like he felt. Ok, so maybe that was an overstatement, but Gerard was known for self-loathing. It was the truth, though, he just felt more comfortable in the cold, brisk air. He liked breathing in the icy wind, letting it burn his lungs, reminding him of the days when he was a teenager and had just began smoking. The familiar burn was something he missed about smoking; now that he was hopelessly addicted, the burn was gone. There was just an incessant need to keep up his habit so that he didn’t have an anxiety attack. He had convinced himself that smoking helped ease his anxieties, but money was tight and in reality, the monthly expense likely added to his worry. When he came to think of it, there wasn’t much of the day, or night, for that matter when he wasn’t filled with a nagging panic. A panic of what exactly, he never could decide. It could be anything from potentially forgetting an important event, to paying the bills on time, and even the various ways he could die. Gerard couldn’t remember a time when he wasn’t plagued by the intrusive thoughts.
The first time he can recall having a panic attack was at age 8, he had been playing with the neighbor boy, Brian, at the park a few streets down from his house. Brian decided they should take turns on the slide. The slide wasn’t one Gerard had been down before, it was the kind that is enclosed and makes twists and turns as you go down. Gerard felt a pang of uncertainty before entering the tunnel, but Brian insisted that it was “cool” and “fun”. As Gerard began to lower himself in front of the slide, he felt all the blood rush from his head into his toes. All he could see inside the tunnel was black. He gently pushed himself into the opening and began to slowly slide down. For about five seconds, Gerard felt a little silly. The slide was just that – a slide. There was nothing inside that was going to bite him and eat him up, there were no monsters waiting for him on the other side, it was just a slide. It was actually kind of fun. That’s when he stopped moving. He hadn’t realized, but he kept his palms flat on the inside of the small channel, and he had sufficiently slowed himself to a stop whilst thinking about his uncertainties. Gerard was frozen in place, stuck in the slide and unable to move.
“Gerard?” Brian called. “Are you stuck?”
Gerard couldn’t answer. There were a million thoughts running through his head. He imagined having to be cut out of the slide by firemen, and he thought about his mom scolding him for being so foolish. Only a few minutes passed by of Gerard trying to contemplate his situation, but it felt like hours.

“Just push yourself down, Gerard! I want to go down!” Brian was getting impatient.
Gerard still couldn’t fathom an answer. He tried to move his feet, but the rubber on the bottom of his sneakers proved to only squeak against the plastic tube. He hadn’t moved an inch. He started breathing heavy, and he could feel the heat build inside the tube. His head felt light, his vision was dizzy, and his hands were sweating against the plastic. He was certain he was going to die, throw up, or both.
“If you won’t share I’m going home, then.” Brian huffed.
Gerard tried to yell back, but his voice was hoarse.

“Wait – please don’t leave me here!” He cried.

“It’s just a slide, Gerard. You’re such a weirdo.”

And with that, he heard Brian’s footsteps down the wooden platform and through the grass, and he was gone. Gerard was alone.
Gerard didn’t remember how he got down the slide, only that he woke up on the woodchips directly under the opening below. His best guess is that he passed out, and his body went limp enough for him to slide down the rest of the way. He does remember running home, crying. Gerard never returned to that park, and he avoided Brian for weeks.
By the time he reached the front door to his apartment building, he had sufficiently filled himself with enough brooding thoughts to last him through the night. He entered the building, taking note of the warm heat and stripping his scarf and gloves off as he made his way up the stairs. Once he entered his apartment, he began his nightly routine. As soon as he had his coat hung neatly in the closet, he flipped on the living room light and headed for the record player.
He flipped through the records mindlessly, he loved them all –fairly- equally, with a few exceptions. He settled on The Smiths – Meat is Murder, classic, and ironic, as he heated his dinner in the microwave, the second half of a burger from lunch. He wasn’t particularly hungry, but he knew his mother would be calling at 6PM sharp, like every night, and the first thing she would ask is “have you eaten?”
He had just enough time to uncap a beer when the beep from the microwave went off. He sat down on the couch, burger and beer in hand and got comfortable. He glanced at the clock – 5:37PM, as he took his first bite.
The burger was lukewarm, but the bun was searing hot – he really should have taken the bun off before heating the burger. The roll was mushy, and honestly none of it tasted good. It wasn’t that spectacular when he ordered it fresh this afternoon, but this was bad on a new level. He threw the burger back down and sat back into the couch with his beer in hand. He mindlessly flipped through his phone, opening Facebook out of habit. He scrolled through the posts without reading them, only scanning for interesting pictures. There were none. It seemed like only minutes passed, when his phone began to ring in his hand forcing his attention back to reality. He glanced over at the clock again – 6:02PM.

“Hi, Mom.” He answered.

“Hi, sweetie how was your day? Have you had dinner? Did you have trouble getting home with the ice?” she asked sweetly, barraging him with questions, as she did every time she called.

“It was fine; the subway was running on a delay so I just walked. I ate the rest of my burger from lunch” He sighed.

“Honey, please be careful. I don’t want you falling and getting hurt. The temperature is supposed to rise next week, though.” She seemed relieved that Gerard wouldn’t have to be walking in the cold much longer, but Gerard was mildly disappointed at the warming temperatures.

“I know, Mom. It’s OK.” He answered, thinking about the hell that was summer heat, even though he knew he had at least four months before he would be faced with such temperatures.

“How was work? How’s Lindsey?” His mom asked; she sounded genuinely interested, but Gerard couldn’t help but be annoyed. She didn’t bother Mikey this way. He knew that she just worried about him, but sometimes it just got on his nerves.

“Work was fine, Lindsey is good.” He said, not willing to give more information than necessary.
“Just good? I heard she was doing a little better than “good”.” She asked, and he could hear her eyebrow arching in question through her voice.

“She’s great, mom. Spectacular. She seems happy. The ring is nice.” Gerard drawled, his answer dripping with sarcasm at first, but ending in honesty.

“Don’t get snippy with me, Gerard. I was just making conversation. I’m glad she found a nice boy to marry. It makes me wonder when you…” She was interrupted by a loud grunt.

“Ugh, mom! Please.” Gerard whined.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. It’s a mother’s duty to annoy her son about marriage. You know, I always thought you and Lindsey would make a great couple. You have so many things in common.” She sounded almost disappointed, but Gerard wouldn’t let it get to him. He knew what she was doing.

“Mom, you know why that won’t work. We’ve been over this.” Gerard rolled his eyes as he spoke, having had this conversation what seemed like one hundred times before.

“I know, I just want you to…I don’t know, I want grandchildren. I want you to be happy.” She answered honestly.
“I’m sure Mikey will give you all the grandchildren you could ever want. I’ll give you grand cats.” At this point, Gerard was annoyed and he made no attempt to hide it.

“You know I am just pushing your buttons, Gerard. I love you no matter what, and I know you will find a nice man to settle down with one day. Someone who will adopt my grand cat’s with you.” She laughed a little, and Gerard couldn’t help the small smirk that appeared on his lips. He knew his mother meant well, and she loved him unconditionally, but deep down he did wonder about disappointing her.

“I know mom, but I wouldn’t hold your breath. The men in New York City aren’t usually my type, you know, Wall Street Bankers and big shots.” He was being honest; the men he met in the city were good for one thing – sex. They never had anything in common, and Gerard just couldn’t imagine seriously dating any of the men he had met. He worked as a comic book artist, how could he ever have anything in common with men who didn’t even understand art?

“It will happen when you least expect it, but it will happen.” Her optimism didn’t transfer to him, even as he considered her words.

“Well, I’ll let you go. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, same time?” She asked

“Same time as always. Love you” Gerard confirmed.

“Love you too” She said before hanging up the phone.
Gerard sunk back into the couch, not realizing he had been sitting forward and tensed. He let his head fall back slightly, and closed his eyes, before he knew it he was drifting off to sleep. The record player had long shut off when he re-awoke. A quick glance at the clock told him it was 11:21PM. He was sure that he fell asleep sitting up, but when he woke up he was lying sideways on the couch. He slowly dragged his tired body off the couch, and made way for his bedroom, leaving his unfinished food on the coffee table. The second his head hit the pillow he was out again, drifting back to sleep.

The remainder of the week went by uneventfully; Gerard had a deadline of 5PM Friday evening to finish the editing project he was working on. With nothing else to focus on, he was finished by lunchtime on Thursday. He spent the remainder of the day Thursday drawing sketches for a new comic book he wanted to propose at the next quarterly meeting. By Friday, his mind was checked out. He spent most of the day sipping his coffee and staring out the window next to his desk. He watched the ice melt off of the gutters on the building, with puddles building below. He was entirely too apathetic about winter coming to a close than most people should be. Gerard thought briefly about moving to Siberia, before coming to the conclusion that there probably weren’t many hipster coffee shops, record stores and comic book shops in Siberia to keep him happy, even if it was eternally winter.
Gerard was counting the number of people who walked passed his window when his phone buzzed with a text.

“What are you up to tonight?”
It was Lindsey; he knew it before he even picked up the phone. She texted him almost every Friday around this time, asking what he was doing that night. She always wanted to go out and get plastered recently, and since she would be married soon – he assumed she was probably trying to get it out of her system before settling down.

“Nothing. I’m pretty tired, though.” He lied.
“You’re a liar.” How was she able to see through his lies through text message? She knew him entirely too well for his liking.
“Ok so I’m not like falling asleep tired, but it’s been a long week.” That was less of a lie, but still not completely true. It had been a fairly easy week at work.

“All the more reason to come out with us! :)” She always knew how to rope Gerard into her schemes.

“Who is us?” Gerard inquired. Usually it was just the two of them when they went out and god shit-faced. He didn’t want to make a fool of himself in front of strangers.

“Me, Brent, Jamia, Ray. Mikey even said he would come. Gerard, you have to. We’re celebrating mine and Brent’s engagement, I really want my best friend there…” Gerard could hear her voice in his head, trailing off, with her bottom lip pouting.

“Fine. Where and when?” Gerard was hesitant, but Lindsey was his best friend and he wouldn’t flake out on her engagement celebration. He really liked Brent. He treated her well, and he was genuinely happy for them.

“I’ll pick you up at 8! Love you!” Again, he could practically hear Lindsey’s voice in his head, giddy and smiling. It was enough to make him smile, too.

When Gerard got home from work, he actually was tired. He thought about calling Lindsey and telling her he couldn’t make it, and that he would buy her and Brent drinks the next time they went out to make up for it. He sat down on his bed and stared at his phone, agonizing over how he would tell her. After 20 minutes, he admitted defeat and got up. He stood in front of the closet for at least 10 minutes, trying to figure out what he should wear. Normally, he wouldn’t care, but he didn’t know if where they were going was casual, or fancy. Knowing Lindsey, it was anything but fancy, but they were celebrating an engagement after all. He settled on a pair of tight black jeans and a black button up top. He tucked the shirt in and slid a black belt into the belt loops. He rolled the sleeves up to his elbows, figuring this looked casual, but he could always roll his sleeves down if the venue called for more formal attire. He thought briefly about putting on a tie, but hoped Lindsey would have told him if he needed to dress up that much. He figured his black doc martens were practical for the weather, and slipped them on. He waltzed into the bathroom and looked at himself in the mirror. He looked OK, but his hair was getting too long. He made a mental note to trim it tomorrow. He played with it until it stuck up in all the right places, and looked unruly but not undone. He shrugged and turned out of the bathroom. He had about 45 minutes before Lindsey would be there, so he began to brew a fresh pot of coffee. Whenever he went out with Lindsey he had a tendency to stay out until midnight or later, and he would be thankful he got some caffeine in him later.
As he stood in the kitchen waiting for the pot to brew, he mulled over what to do with his spare time. Gerard didn’t have many hobbies, and his favorite past time, drawing comic’s, also happened to be his profession. It was sufficient to say that by the time he got home, he was spent on ideas to create. Without thinking, he sauntered back into his bathroom. He opened the medicine cabinet without looking himself in the mirror again; he didn’t want to look at himself right now. The medicine cabinet was mostly empty. There were a few hair care products, a pair of sheers, shaving cream and disposable razor, an extra tube of toothpaste and toothbrush, q-tips, and a small clear box containing 10 razor blades. He picked up the clear container and closed the medicine cabinet. He took a seat on the edge of the tub and opened the box. Some of the blades were fresh; they were kept on the left side of the container. There was a divider in the middle where he kept the old blades contained. Gerard didn’t want an infection if he could avoid it.
He selected a fresh blade and pulled his sleeves out of the way of the underside of his left arm. His sleeves were rolled up enough to see his wrists, but the upper half of his forearm was covered. That would have to be sufficient for tonight. He pressed the cold metal to his skin, and he considered himself for a moment. This had all become so habitual, like smoking or drinking. It was a crutch, and Gerard knew this. It was how he coped with his existence, with his anxiety and with his fears. There was no sadness involved in the action anymore; it was just something he needed to do to get through the day. It wasn’t even every day that Gerard cut himself, sometimes he could go days without doing it. Sometimes he would forget, being so busy at work, but there were also times he couldn’t think of anything else. Sometimes when Gerard was home alone, with nothing to take his mind off of himself, he could sit in the bathroom and slice his arms and legs for hours. This had become a less often occurrence in the last few years, however, thanks to Lindsey. The cuts were never extremely deep; he found that the shallow cuts seemed to hurt more. He pressed down with the blade and pulled downwards, making a red line just below his inner elbow. Gerard watched the blood begin to bubble out of the opening, and drip down his arm. He grabbed a piece of tissue and dabbed at the wound, careful not to wipe too much of the blood away, but not to get any on his shirt. As he tended to his arm, the coffee maker beeped in the kitchen signaling it was finished brewing. Gerard sighed to himself, slipped the blade back in its case and left it on the bathroom sink as he made his way back into the kitchen.
Five minutes later and Gerard sat down on the couch, a hot mug of coffee in his fist. He took slow sips, savoring the taste. He knew that shortly, he would only be able to taste the burn of straight alcohol.

Notes

I hope you like the first chapter! I have about 6 chapters written at this moment, and am writing at a pace of about 1 1/2 chapter per day. I will continue to update this regularly (twice a week or more). If you have any suggestions, please comment. Also, follow me on twitter @crashintokate for updates on how the story is progressing, or just for general Frerard fangirling.