Young and Doomed | Frerard

Chapter Nine

Karaoke at two am hadn't been Lindsey Ballato's finest idea.

Nevertheless, Gerard had found himself sitting on the floor, watching her and Hayley screech out their lungs over whiny boy-band classics that had long since gone out of style. It was quite entertaining, but if he was being honest, having Frank make snarky jokes into his ear made it all the better.

That had been, until the security had finally managed to break through the double bed barricade the group had built, and crash their party. As punishment, everyone had been put on room-arrest for twenty-four hours, and call hours had been restricted. Not that Gerard had anyone to call anyway, and Frank had been grateful for an excuse to ignore his family for another day.

It also meant Gerard wasn't going to have a pencil today, but that was fine.

His "arrest" had been put on hold for therapy, and he found himself sitting back on the all-too-familiar grey chair in Dr. J's office. Dr. J had been asking strange questions all week, but Gerard still managed to feel surprise when he'd brought up an unspoken topic: family.

"Excuse me?" Gerard had furrowed his brow, and Dr. J had smiled faintly. "Your family, Gerard. Do you ever think about them?"

"Not particularly." Gerard responded, slightly confused. Why was Dr. J bringing this up all of a sudden? Had someone tried to contact him? Gerard felt a small spark of hope in his chest. "Do you know anyone in my family?" He asked quickly. "No, do any of them know I'm here?"

Dr. J grimaced slightly. "Gerard, I can't tell you those things, I'm sorry."

Gerard sighed in exasperation. Why bring it up then if he wasn't going to be told anything?

"You're feeling frustrated, Gerard." Dr. J commented, and Gerard scoffed, irritated. "I bet no one outside this place even knows my name, do they?" He asked. Dr. J opened his mouth to speak, but Gerard continued on before he could. "Kind of sad really, I only exist inside a hospital." He curled his lip. "I hope whoever left me for foster care is dead. There's no other excuse for putting kid through that shit."

"Gerard, there are many other lifestyles that would cause someone to give up a child." Dr. J pleaded gently, but Gerard wouldn't meet his eyes. "Like what, a prostitute?"

Dr. J didn't respond, and Gerard almost laughed in spite of himself. "My mother's a‑ prostitute, huh? That's real nice, I'm glad." He looked down at himself, putting together a story in his head. His mother was a whore, and his father was a sleaze-ball paying for a hook-up. They were probably both homeless now (or at least Gerard hoped, otherwise business must have been going well for his mother), digging through trashcans for valuables in exchange for a quick high. They went to sleep on concrete each night – separately, of course, because they'd never spoken again after the night dollar store birth control had failed.

"No," Dr. J spoke before Gerard's story could progress any further. "Your mother was not a prostitute, Gerard."

Gerard sat up in his chair, his hands on the armrests. "That was a pretty definite tone, Dr. J," He said, eyeing the doctor, before realization suddenly hit him. "You know her!" He gasped, and Dr. J quickly tried to backpedal on his words. "Gerard, wait-"

"You've known who she was this whole time and you haven't told me!" Betrayal was an awfully dramatic word, but Gerard couldn't stop it from passing through his mind as his thoughts raced. Was his mother the one paying for his stay here? How long had Dr. J known? Why hadn't he told Gerard? Did Gerard have other family?