Somebody Out There Loves You After All (Gerard Way x Reader)

(Chapter 23) Life is a Bitch

The rental car skidded down the road, coming to a screeching stop that made me grit my teeth violently together, my eyes squinting in reaction. My eyelids creaked open to see a crummy little house sprawled on a disgrace to call a yard. It was more like a sodden dirt bank, dark murky mud making a more significant appearance than grass. The "grass" was a few dull sprigs here and there peaking out of the vast plot of dirt. The oatmeal-colored one-story house that sat atop the dirt looked so tiresome. The mildew-covered siding was falling off in place, making the place look lopsided. It looked shrunken and fatigued instead of perky and ready to be assumed as a home. I let out an irked groan, muttering to myself as I opened my car door. 

I walked up the driveway, waiting at the cheap white door, staring at the sullen previously golden doorknob in anticipation of my lousy father coming to unlock my new hom- house. Home would be too big of a title for this place, commending it much more than I would agree with. My real home was near a thousand miles from where we ended up. Fucking Florida. Humid, stickily hot, flash raining, lonesome, Florida. 

Eventually, the door was opened. The moving truck wasn't going to arrive until the following day or two, so it was nothing but ourselves and the few personal bags we brought on the plane filling the relatively small house. 

I made my way to my new room, inching the door open slowly. The room was about as average as they come. Off-white walls, a small closet to the left of the door, carpet with unknown stains, a customary window with a fantastic view of the battered fence that looked half knocked down. Absolutely thrilling, appalling stuff there. 

I threw down my bag, and it made a based flump as it hit the spent floor. I meandered unattentively to the kitchen. We had stopped on the way over to pick up some groceries, so I sifted through the plastic bags, retrieving something that would grant me at least a tiny nugget of pleasure in the overabundance of horrible that was brought upon me- instant ramen. 

That evening consisted of the remarkable activities of sitting on the gross floor slurping up some instant ramen with a god knows how old spork that we found in the glove box of the rental car since someone forgot to buy plastic utensils for us to use in the meantime, staring at the ceiling with nothing to do but sit with my troubled and hateful thoughts. 

~Time skip~

The subsequent Monday I began school. Just fantastic! Starting as the new kid just over halfway through the school year. Not to mention the fact that I was joining in junior year when the already attending students have known each other for at least a few years, so I would be duly ostracized. As I began to think things through more thoroughly, lying in bed restless at around 5:30 AM, I couldn't help but groan in frustration at the increasingly more shit events ensuing. There didn't ever seem to be a lull in bad news from the moment the original statement of "We're moving" was spoken. The cards were stacked against me and there didn't seem to be anything I could do. 

After a while, I got up to get myself ready for school. I did so, finding my backpack I laid out on the dresser and filled it with the basics that I would need for the first day. Next, slumping the bag carelessly over my shoulder,  I headed to the kitchen. The still mostly empty cupboard consisted of the fairly liberal breakfast options of Pop-tarts and some bread. Mind you, it couldn't be toasted since we didn't have a toaster available yet. For some fucking reason a few boxes got misplaced, and one just so happened to contain the toaster. So, I grabbed the Pop-tarts that I could feel were crumbly in the sleeve, leaving the house to find my way to school. 

Eventually, I figured out the way, of course getting turned a couple of times, but it is what it is. Entering the building, it was a fairly average school; Nothing different from any other typical school in the American system. The clicks were present and accounted for, jocks to the left, popular girls to the right, and so on. I made my way to the office to get my locker combination and schedule, just like the start of a classic high school AU. 

That got resolved and I was off to the races, entering the halls to find my locker. As usual, I was secretly pointed at as I passed by clad in my skinnies, jacket, and all the accoutrements. I paid no mind as I arrived at my locker, punching in the combination, getting all the aggression I could out. 

By the time lunch rolled around, I couldn't take it anymore. I sat outside as far away from people as I could. Of course, I wasn't liked. In fact, I got the prestigious honor of being chosen as the new favorite kid to be picked on by bullies. I simply didn't show them any emotion so they didn't get the satisfaction of getting a rise out of me, but they didn't seem to care, proceeding to throw harassment my way throughout the day. I sat quietly, shaking my head as I took a prolonged drag out of my cigarette, getting reminded of the plume of smoke that would often hang over the guys and me; Just like on the last day I was in Belleville. It was hard not to be reminded of them at all, they were the only thing that kept me going. Just a hint at something that brought up the most mundane memories would bring a little smile to me. I would have given an arm to be back there with them. 

After a considerably long and laborious day, I finally made my way back to the shithole I found myself living in. What a fucking day.

~A few weeks later~

I still hadn't gotten adjusted to life in Florida after nearly a month of living in the place. The good news was, that I was finally able to call back home and get the scoop about how things were up there. I lived through these conversations, it was only a fragment of my old life I could hold onto. Even though these calls were a very small thing I could do to keep connected with life in Belleville, I appreciated every moment of what I got. The only thing gnawing away at me was the fact that the conversations with Gerard began to wane... odd.

I dialed Frank's number, letting it ring until it eventually picked up. "Hey rat child," I greeted cheerfully. 

"Um... Hey Y/n," He responded strangely, it was almost as if he was preoccupied. 

Completely confused with his change in demeanor from his usual self, I replied, "What's wrong, Frank?" 

"Erm, I'm not really at liberty to say," He said, sounding like he was fidgeting with something. 

"Tell me, if it's got Frank Iero worked up, it must be something serious and I need to know," I argued. 

"Fine," He huffed, not angrily but with the fact that I was going to press him if he didn't give it up. "Gerard... Um... Gerard has gotten hooked on drinking," He said with exhaustion like he'd been carrying this on his shoulders, and saying it aloud finally brought the realization and magnitude of the situation at hand to light. 

"He-He what?" 

"He's been drinking heavily since you've been gone. He's drowning his depression out with alcohol. We all have been trying to intervene before he gets worse, but nothing's working." He elaborated. 

I sighed, eyes widening as I ran a hand through my hair. "I don't want to believe you, but from how you're saying it, this can't be anything but the truth. I just- god why did all of this have to happen? Life is fucking unfair isn't it?" I rambled, without much thought into what I was actually saying. "How bad is he?" 

"He hasn't been sober this past week at all, not that I've seen. I've been talking with Mikey since he sees Gee the most, and he says he just stays in his room all day and doesn't show any interest in doing anything else but drinking and staying in his room." Frank delivered more bad news. 

Frank continued to talk about the state of affairs back home, he didn't really have anything good to report, which caused me more distress than I could handle. All of this spiraled from one decision, and I couldn't help but resent my father more and more over those upcoming months, and then continuing for the rest of my life. After that phone call, I couldn't stop myself from falling headfirst into a depression myself. Life is a bitch, man.