Chemtober Challenge; Oneshots and Drawings.

SIX: Venom

Trigger warning: vomit, blood. (it's pretty mild dw)

To say the boys were nervous would be an understatement.

A pretty fucking massive one.

It's not like it was a huge party, or a large crowd. But they were doing their first show that wasn't in a close friend's fucking basement, and, not to be too dramatic or anything, but Gerard would kind of rather fucking die.

Not that he was totally hating it, because he actually was really excited. He and Ray were practically crying on each other when they got the news that they got a real gig, thanks be to Pencey Prep, who had been tugging My Chemical Romance along with them like a big brother taking a younger sibling to his friends house with him. All of Pencey loved My Chem, but it was mostly just their lead singer's doing. He was in love with My Chemical Romance.

As excited as Gerard was though, he was also sick with pure terror. It was like anxiety was just eating him alive from the inside out, clawing at his insides like a spinning blender blade in the pit of his stomach. And, to top it all off, Grandma Helen, Gerard's goddamn anchor, wasn't gonna be there tonight.

Gerard already hated parties, but he'd rather be the host of an Eyeball party than be where he was right now. Twenty minutes to showtime. Are you fucking serious?

Eyeball Records threw some wild parties, and Gerard was very much looking forward to the booze that'd surely be there late that night, but it wasn't getting their fast enough for him. So, when Mikey finally showed up from wherever-the-hell with a pack of beer and a box of cigarettes, Gerard was gone.

Ray, of course, was on stage already, riffing out some punkish ambience for the few people that were already there. He's a fucking killer guitarist, so he had everyone more or less hypnotized, even though there wasn't anything happening yet.

As soon as Gerard and Mikey hit the stage, Ray knew something was up. But of course he did. He cared too much not to notice.

"Dude, how much did you two drink?" He asked while they were stringing up.

Mikey didn't care to answer, and Gerard just scoffed. "It was enough."

Ray just nodded along and got the show started. He hoped this would be a one time thing, but, unfortunately, it wouldn't be.

Most of the people there knew at least one or two of their songs, because the people who frequented the New Jersey punk scene were pretty much all the same people, just moving place to place, and several of them were just other bands that were all clustered around together and squeezed into various basements.

Oh, it was like nothing they'd ever experienced. The crowd was singing with him. All he fucking had to do was hold the mic out and they all sang it louder. Oh, my fucking God, it was magical.

"Ah, ha, fuck-" Gerard wiped his face, stumbling to the side with the iffy microphone stand. "You fuckers having any fun?" Everyone screamed and jumped around excitedly, cheering them on. Gerard's eyes found that tattoo-strewn moron in the front row, and he grinned at him before moving his eyes again. "I just wanna thank the band, Pencey Prep, for getting us this show, we wouldn't have made it if wasn't for you guys. Thank you so much."

Ray riffed out a sort of rock-ish crescendo and Mikey was twanging along just behind him, Gerard ran a clumsy hand through his dirty hair while people kept on whooping and yelling. He was dizzy and hungry, but the show must go on.

Maybe he was drinking too much, but a little voice in the back of Gerard's mind was telling him that he'd never be capable and sober at once.

The show was both never-ending and over too fast. Gerard was ready to fucking fall over before it was done, but he at least knew he was having fun.

By the time he made it from backstage to Alex's house, Gerard could barely keep himself upright. Mikey held his liquor a little better, but not much. Ray felt like a really stressed out, hyper-extended babysitter at first, but once Gerard reached a certain level of blood alcohol contamination, Ray couldn't have stayed at that party if they paid him. He had to get his idiot friends home, because he was honestly scared something might happen to them if he didn't personally see to their care himself. He liked Alex, but Alex wasn't as careful as he believes he is, so Ray just politely insisted he take the Way brothers home, and Alex, being distracted with his party, didn't really care much anyways.

Mikey was silent in the passenger seat. Drunk out of his mind, but still just himself. Gerard talked discombobulatedly about being mad at Ray for making him go home, but eventually he passed out, and the rest of the short drive was spent in silence.

Getting Gerard up the stairs and into his apartment probably took ten minutes, which is a long fucking time to spend on one flight of stairs, but Ray was forcing himself to stay patient despite how tired he was, and Mikey was annoyed, but still mostly unresponsive, because he was slowly becoming more sober, and really just wanted to be asleep.

"You want a ride back to your mom's?" Ray offered once they'd shoved Gerard into his bedroom.

Mikey shook his head. "I'm staying here."

Ray nodded, tucking a hand into his jeans pocket for his keys as he turned away. "Okay, goodnight."

"Yeah." Mikey closed the door behind him, and Ray headed home.

Mikey crashed on the couch and was out like a light. Gerard, however, woke up about an hour into his sleep-cycle when his body shot him awake so he could run to the bathroom and vomit up everything he'd drank before.

He'd tripped on his way down to the toilet and scraped his hand against the jagged corner of the old wooden cabinet, cutting his palm open down to his wrist. He didn't notice, as he was pretty sidetracked with puking.

After he was done, he leaned on the toilet with his hands, but then his bloody hand slipped, making him lose his balance and hit his head on the lid.

"Ow! Fuck." Gerard held his head, leaning back to rest against the wall. "Jesus-"

He sighed, then glared up at the cabinet. He crawled forward, lazily tossing the little door open, and he took out the bottle of liquor he'd stashed down there.

He dropped himself back against the wall and lifted his foot, harshly kicking the cabinet door shut with a loud bang. Then he twisted the cap off the bottle, and took a long, slow drink from it. 

It was a good night-- from what he remembered, at least. At least he wasn't freaking the fuck out anymore. The alcohol really calmed his nerves fast...

He lifted the bottle back to his lips, taking another long drink, filling himself with the poison that he had no idea yet of how much suffering it would cause him.

Not that he gave a damn if he did.

He had lead a full show today. Granted not very well, because he mostly mumbled along the lyrics he could remember and listened to everyone singing it for him. A rock band. What a good idea.

"Here's to fuckin' everything." He drawled, raising the bottle over his head before lowering it again to gulp some down. "This is what I wanted, and now I'm getting it."

I didn't start this until literally midnight. jesus fucking god. I'm not really sleepy right now but I'm sure as hell going to be tomorrow. god I'm not looking forward to that. goodnight, lovelies.

10-7-21