Dreams

Chapter five: Clean up the mess I made when you broke my heart.

“Gerard we need to leave!” Franks hands are in mine and those are the only words I have to hear before we start running. I don’t know where, just away. The ground in front of us falls away, leaving nothing but blackness before us, like the world’s just fallen into nothingness. We change our footing and turn to run the other way, but there’s nothing there. Nothing anywhere. Just us on this platform of pavement. We hold each other tight, death just waiting to pry us apart. As if calm has been restored our lips meet in one last kiss before we fall into the black around us.

“Gerard….hey!” I open my eyes slowly and see Frank poking my arm gingerly. “The doctor said you can go finally.” He holds my skeleton pajamas up at me and then flops them down on the bed. I look at my hands and there are no more needles in them. Just little microscopic dots where they once were. “C’mon I need to get out of here and shave, shower, have a cigarette and a beer.” I sit up on the edge of the bed and find out that there’s a fucking hospital gown tied around me and of course they make them so you can’t fucking untie them.

“Frank, will you get this?” He hurries to the other side of the bed and I can feel his soft fingers pulling at the knots and lightly brushing my skin. It pulls the air from my lungs and makes my blood stop flowing, my whole body going numb.

“Are you cold?” He asks and I know I’m getting goosebumps.

“No I…Yea it’s a little chilly in here I guess.” I say trying to laugh it off. Nice save douche bag.

“Do you want my hoodie?”

“No, I’ll be fine.” I tell him.

“Oh shit, I forgot to call Jamia.” He says, still undoing knots. The very mention of her name makes me wish even more that I had died. Why doesn’t he see?

“Oh…well you should call her I guess.” I don’t want him to go, but I don’t want him to see the tears that have gathered in my eyes.

“Are you sure? I’ll stay if you want.”

“No I bet she’s worried.” Yea right. “You should call her.”

“Okay…I’m just gonna be in the hall so if you need me just yell.” I nod to him, trying to hide my face as I feel a tear roll down my cheek. He pulls the door shut behind him and I reach form my pjs, just letting my tears fall. This is the absolute worst time in my life. Why can’t I just be happy? Everyone else is…why can’t he see how much I love him and how miserable it’s making me? Why can’t I be with him? Who the fuck am I kidding? He’d never want me anyway. I’m a depressed pill popping alcoholic who doesn’t have his shit together in any way shape form or manner. Why would he ever want me? The tears fall harder and I look for a piece of tissue but the kleenex box on the bedside tables been emptied. I walk into the bathroom and wipe my eyes before looking in the mirror and seeing how truly disheveled I look. I’m so thin and pale. My eyes are sunken in, with dark circles under them and my hair’s a fucking nest of snarls. The little beginning of beard on my face (which is all I’ll ever grow) somehow just adds to my whole junkie suicidal look. I pull up my hood, not making any effort to fix my hair at all and leave the little room.

I go to the hall and see Frank of his cell phone, but he very abruptly hangs it up, blowing a kiss through it. I want to turn around and go cry in the bathroom some more. I hate her.

“Well…is she upset?” I want him to say ‘yea she left me for Chris’, her best guy friend who I know she’s fucking anyway. But just for not calling, get real.

“She was pissed that I didn’t call for three days but I told her why n she’s fine.”

“Three days? I thought you just hadn’t called today.”

“No…I was to worried to call her. She says she hopes you feel better and shit.” Yea sure. She doesn’t have any human feeling for anyone but herself, unless she wants to get in my pants. Or my wallet. I hate degrading women, but Jamia’s not a woman. She’s a slut, like all the other girls I know in Jersey. He takes my hand in his and starts leading me down the hall. The air is pulled from my lungs and I look at him curiously. “They still think I’m your boyfriend.” He whispers, winking at me and smiling. I smile back and wish that I could just lean over and kiss his cheek, but it’s silly. My lips don’t belong on his perfect face. We walk down corridors and doors, down stairs and elevator floors to I assume the front desk where he picks up a bag of my stuff. Clothes and shit I had on when we got here I guess. His hand’s still in mine when we get in the cab.


Frank’s silent the whole way to the hotel, seeming not to notice our still interlaced fingers. Which I’m thankful for. I like holding his hand. It makes me feel whole for a minute. We pull up to the big beige building and Frank pays the driver as I step out walking around to open his door. He steps our and casually takes my hand again. I could defiantly get used to this, if the air stayed in me long enough. I start walking off to the door of the hotel but he pulls me back.

“I don’t think so.” He gives me a grin and starts walking in the opposite direction, dragging me across the street where I see our bus parked. “What pills you didn’t swallow, you’re gonna find and get rid of. Every last one.” I smile even though he can’t see and just let him guide me to the bus where he fumbles with the keys.

Once he has the door open and we’re inside I go to my bunk and pull out my bag. It’s strange how much this place feels like home. I sit on the floor and dig through it, pulling out bottle after bottle after bottle and passing them up to him.

“Holey shit Gee you have enough to kill ten people.”

“There’s more.” I tell him, feeling like the lowest low you can be. There’s no way he’d ever love me. I pull the thin mattress out of the bunk and stuff it in the one below, revealing the ten or more bottles I’d stashed there.

“Oh my god…Gee where did you get all these?” I can’t just say ‘my therapist’ because he’s already looking at the forty some odd bottles, no doubt seeing the different names tapped on them.

“Here and there…you’d be surprised what people wont give up for money.” I can’t look at him so I just settle my eyes on the floor, ashamed of what he now knows. How entirely sickening and worthless I am.

“Go get me one of those plastic cups please.” I walk out to the kitchen which is about a total of five feet and get him what he asked for before handing it to him. One by one he empties the pills into the cup, telling me to throw out the bottles and I listen to him. If he wants me clean, I’ll get clean. And maybe…just maybe he’ll find it in himself to love me even a little bit. After what seems like forever every bottle is empty and he’s handing me the cup, telling me to flush it down the toilet. And I do. Because he told me to. I turn around and he’s there, open arms pulling me to him in a warm hug. One that stops my breathing and gives me chills.

“Promise me you wont ever…ever do anything like that again.” He demands, still not letting go.

“I promise.” I smile against his chest and he backs away slightly looking me in the face. So perfect and beautiful. I brush our lips together in a light breeze of a kiss, just not being able to help myself.

“What was that for?” He asks with his cute voice and beautiful bright eyes.

“For caring about me.” His lips press on mine softly and I’m in shock over the fact that he’d even think of doing that.

“That’s for still being here for me to care about.” We walk off the bus, across the street and into the hotel, hands still together. If almost dying make us this close, I’d have tried it a long time ago.


I’m unimaginably happy to be roomed with Frank. Being with Ray and Bob would be disturbing and scary because not only would I have to listen to them fucking, but Bob would probably choke me in my sleep. And Mikey…I’m just not ready to face him yet.

I climb out of the shower Frank hand started for me and look at myself in the full length mirror. I look a little better than I did at the hospital but I’m still just…me. I’m not thin enough I’m to white, bad posture, dead eyes and lifeless lips. I’d be a fool to think he would ever love me. I’m lucky he even cares about me. Disgusted by myself, I shave, thinking about taking the razor apart and slitting my wrists before walking out into the bedroom where Frank’s set out a black t-shirt and my bat pajama bottoms for me. My heart flutters and I smile like a kid on crack. He is without a doubt, the most beautiful and wonderful person I know. I’d do anything to be with him. Or get over him. But he’s with her. Encased in the coldness she brings.

He’s sitting on the overstuffed white couch watching TV when I come out. He gets up and hugs me before passing me the remote.

“There’s nothing on really, but maybe you can find something good. There’s food if your hungry.” I just not to him, too shy to speak. He kisses me again. A quick nervous peck on the cheek, but to noticeable to be an accident. It’s fucking killing me. Half of me wants to just push him off me, but a much stronger half wants to push him down on the couch and devour him. Just take him in as part of me, and keep him safe from that evil girl.

He leaves me along and I can breath again, sitting down to flip through the six hundred and something channels of nothing TV. Twenty minutes pass and a soaking wet Frank emerges from the doorway, the image making me feel intoxicated; drunk on the perfection of his beautiful body. He’s so fucking beautiful. Clean shaven, wet hair sticking to his face, his loose t-shirt and boxers lightly clinging to his moist skin. God he’s perfect.

“Did you find anything good?” He asks, sitting beside me, the curves of his body pressing against me through the thin fabric of our shirts.

“No…there’s nothing on.”

“There never is.” He wraps his arm around my waist and leans into me even closer. I try to be okay with it, but I’m breathless, feeling so nervous and scared. I relax and count my breaths trying not to hyperventilate or suffocate myself. Cartoon after cartoon plays our in front of us and he starts yawning. “Are you tired?” He asks me and I tell him ‘yea’, amazed that I could find the power to speak with him so close. “Me too. I’m gonna go to bed.” He gets up and stretches our looking at me.

“I’m just gonna sleep on the couch.”

“Are you sure? You can sleep in there, the bed’s big enough.”

“No, I’m fine.”

“Okay…g’night.” No kisses which I’m almost thankful for, because I don’t want to deal with the nervousness it brings. But I wish I could feel his soft lips in a soft goodnight kiss.

“Good night.”


I shut off the TV and toss and turn but I can’t sleep without my pills. I close my eyes and listen to my heart beating in my chest. It’s worthless. I pace the floor, get a drink, walk around the hotel room. Through doorways and across tile floors and carpets.

“Frank…I can’t sleep.” I doubt he’s even still awake.

“Me either. Come lay down with me.” I shuffle over to the bed and he pulls the blankets up for me to get in. He shifts closer to me and lays on his side, brushing the hair out of my face. “Why did you take all those pills?” He asks, so gently, glass words floating through the shadows.

“I wanted to die…” The flatness of that statement is almost like a rope tightening around my throat, waiting to drag me down the first chance it gets.

“Why?” He lifts his hand to wipe the teas that have managed to fall from my eyes.

“I can’t tell you.”

“Yes you can. I promise…Just…I want to know.”

“You wont understand.” He wraps his arms around me and holds me tight as I cry softly into his chest.

“Shhh…it’s okay baby, we don’t have to talk about it. I just don’t wanna lose you. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“Yes it is.”