TALK TO ME ¯ᶠʳᵉʳᵃʳᵈ

-ˏˋｔｗｅｎｔｙ ｔｗｏ：ｄｉｓａｐｐｏｉｎｔｍｅｎｔˊˎ-

trigger warning: mention of drug use.

I had dropped Frankie and Mikey off at school, happy with the way things were going. Everything felt right. It seemed like things would be okay now that I'd decided to quit...

Wait, no. I couldn't allow myself to think about it, not even for a second. But it was too late, it was already in my thoughts and now fully taking over my cravings. I gripped onto the steering wheel, pressing the leather into my palms, most likely engraving the leather pattern into my skin from how tight I was latched onto it.

My nose itched, reminding me of the feeling of sniffing the powder into my nose...

No. I shook my head and ran my hand under my nose, ignoring the feeling. I would resist it. It shouldn't be that hard. I had people to fight for. I had Frankie to fight for. Frankie. I could think about him and distract myself. He would be happy to know I resisted. It would light up his face with a smile-that adorable smile. I found myself smiling while driving; it was that contagious. The way that no matter how big he smiled, his eyes wouldn't shrink because of how big they were, made it that much more heartwarming. Whenever he would smile at me, I would get lost in both his eyes and that boyish grin. The only time they would disappear was when he grinned without showing his teeth. It would cause his eyes to crinkle and shrink significantly. Fuck, he was enough of an addiction.

He was so...I couldn't describe my feelings for Frankie. Anytime someone told me they'd be there for me, I wouldn't believe it. But with Frank, I believed it fully. He didn't even actually say it but I believed it. He proved it by sticking around even after seeing how fucked up I was. Who would want to stick around and be with a cocaine addict?

Fuck. My mind slipped. I had already arrived back home, able to resist my temptations during the ride here, but now that I was parked, my thoughts only consisted of what I knew was in that glove compartment. It was right there and no one was here to stop me from doing at least one line...

If I did just one line, just one to calm me down, it would wear off by the time Mikey and Frankie were out of school. Ok, yeah, it would be fine. I didn't want to go back to it or anything, but I had to have a hit before I went insane. It wasn't smart to just stop altogether.

I nodded to myself, reasoning with my addiction, and pulled the glove compartment open. My whole body shuddered at the sight of the bag, knowing exactly what was in it. I grabbed it, shut the glove compartment, and ran into the house, yearning for the rush I would soon be getting. I was in such a rush I just ran down my basement stairs, not bothering to shut the door all the way. I would be done in no time.

When I got to my room, I sat at my desk and set the bag down in front of me. I was like a fucking child waiting for a gift. I felt excited and giddy just looking at the bag, knowing what was inside. I opened it and pulled out one pack of the white powder. It was like it spoke to me, reminding me of all the good times I had with it...how it washed away all the troubles, made life so much easier to live without a care, made me so much better. I was better with it in my system. I was a different Gerard, but I liked that Gerard. Maybe Frankie would like that Gerard, too. He hated the drugs and all, but maybe he would like me better that way...

I shook my head, knowing Frankie wouldn't like that version of me. But that's why I wasn't going back. Just one hit. My desk wasn't smooth enough so I decided to take it into the bathroom and find a mirror or something. As I was getting up, I tripped on Frankie's guitar and froze when the strings rang as they hit the floor.

Frankie.

What was I doing? He would hate me for this. He would be so disappointed. He was expecting me to try and get better. This wasn't trying at all. I remembered him saying that we should empty out one bag at a time. Ok. I could do this. Imagine how happy he would be to find out I'd done it on my own. I continued towards the bathroom but just held the bag over the toilet. All I had to do was empty it out. I couldn't even get myself to tear it open, so I just stood there. Fuck. I couldn't do it. Not this one. I dropped the bag onto the floor and ran back into the room, taking another bag and holding it over the toilet, ready to do it...but no. Not this bag. It wasn't me, it was just...the bag.