needles • frerard

thirty one

tw/ brief mention of self harm + suicide

Everything we do here follows a routine. We all wake up at the same time, take our meds at the same time, eat at the same time. However, today, the routine changes. Today is visiting day.

I sit at one of the tables in the area designated for this exact reason. My leg bounces up and down anxiously. I keep glancing at the clock, then at the sign in desk, until I hear the slight rasp and higher-pitch of his voice. I stand up, my chair scraping against the floor. He walks in and I feel my heart beginning to thud against my ribcage.

"Hi." Gerard grins. I forgot how good it felt to see that smile, with all his tiny teeth.

"Hi." I smile back.

"Can I hug you?"

"Please."

I step forward, landing against him. My fingers dig into the fabric of his jacket. I breathe in deep, taking in the familiar scent and letting it melt my brain. I've been on edge all week, and seeing him is like finally getting a fix after a grueling period of forced sobriety. I might as well be high. "I m-missed you." I mumble into his shoulder. "I missed you too, pretty boy." We pull away and Gerard leans down to kiss me. His lips are soft and he's incredibly gentle, like he's worried he'll scare me.

"How are you?"

I take his hand and pull him over to the table and chairs. "Um, I'm o-okay. I've b-b-been sleeping better." I reply, keeping his warm hand in mine even after we've sat down.

"That's awesome." Gee smiles genuinely. "Any nightmares?"

"J-J-J-Just one." I stammer.

"Was it the same one as last time?"

I shake my head. This one was worse. I was in the bathroom again, holding the shiny blade to my wrist. Gerard was standing in front of me, staring silently. I dug it in and slid it down my skin, but nothing happened. It was like the blade couldn't pierce me at all. I tried again, but felt nothing. Gerard raised his arm up, held out flat in front of him, and I saw the cut across his pale wrist. He didn't seem fazed by it, he just continued to stare at me. I tried the other wrist, slicing harder. Again, it appeared on him instead of me. Growing more and more desperate, I tore the blade across my throat. The spray of hot, wet, blood hit my face and chest. Gerard stayed still for just a moment, looking at me with unblinking and unnerving eyes. Then he fell to the ground.

"Wanna talk about it?"

I shake my head again. "N-Not really."

"Alright. Have you been going to therapy here?" Gerard asks.

"Yeah, th-three times a week."

"And how's that?" He asks, tracing my hand tattoos.

"It's been fine, s-s-so far we've only gone over past stuff, since he d-doesn't know me. I mean, he t-t-talked to Ray but only got a few details a-about me."

"Do you like him?"

"I guess. He's my age, which is a little weird, but he's nice."

"That's good." The black-haired man nods, gently squeezing my hand.

"H-How are you?" I swap subjects.

"I'm fine, just trying to keep busy with work. We might take on a piercer or two, at the studio."

"Really? That would be rad." I reply.

He nods again, and an awkward silence falls over us. I sigh softly.

"Is your brother s-s-still mad?" I ask, looking at him.

"He was never mad, Frankie. He just worries about me. Which is kind of funny, since I'm the older one. I still think of him as the chubby little toddler who's teeth I knocked out with a lightsaber."

I giggle. "You kn-knocked out his teeth with a fucking lightsaber?"

"Only, like, two of them. I was eight years old!" Gerard defends, laughing. "But I promise, he was never mad at you. Just concerned."

I nod. "If you say so. Oh, b-by the way, thank you for the sh-shirts."

"No problem. Have they helped?"

"Y-Yeah, a l-l-lot actually." I smile. One of the shirts I've draped over a spare pillow, and keep it next to me in my bed. I'll throw an arm over the middle of it and press my face into the soft, worn material of whatever band tee he gave me. I know, I'm a fucking freak. But it really does help me sleep. It's hard not being with him, especially at night. The dark, the quiet, the lurking threat of another nightmare. It all seems very distant and unimportant when he's here. So, if I can't have him beside me, then I'll create as many placebos as I need.

The taller is still tracing my tattoos with his thumb. I look at the motions, amused. He notices. "Sorry, I just- nevermind." Gerard shakes his head.

"What is it?" I ask.

"Uh, when I was in the ambulance with you, I was looking at your tattoos and I realized that I should've memorized them better."

"Oh." I reply quietly. A dull memory rests in the back of my head, of flashing lights and wailing sirens. But I didn't know he stayed in the ambulance with me.

"So, now I will." He smiles a little.

I roll up my left sleeve (the sleeve that isn't hiding the ugly carnage of my still-bandaged wrist) and move my arm closer to him. "H-Here."

"They're beautiful." Gerard murmurs, running his index finger lightly over the bright colors. It's like we're not even in the hospital anymore, all of our surroundings have disappeared. All I hear is his voice and all I see is him, all I feel is his hand on my arm.

"You're b-b-beautiful." I mumble under my breath, blushing and looking down at the table.

He looks at me, then softly picks up my hand and kisses it. "I love you."

"I love you too." I push my hair out of my eyes, looking into his own shining hazel orbs.

"And I'm proud of you. I want you to know that. I'm so fucking proud of you. I'm proud of you for staying so strong through all of this."

"I-I-I couldn't have done this if I d-didn't have you. Without you, I'd probably b-b-be dead. Or stuck wishing I w-was. You helped me to press charges, t-to get away from him."

It's terrifying to think that if I hadn't met Gerard, I'd still be covered in bruises. I'd still be escaping the beatings with a needle. I'd still be tortured and assaulted and violated nearly every waking moment of my worthless life.

- - - - -

Almost as soon as I had him back, Gerard had to leave again. I kissed him goodbye, and then felt the tension rise as he walked out. The high is starting to wear off.