Gerard Way Oneshots

#5: Depression to extremes

^ {AMBIENCE INCLUDED} ^

Trigger warning: graphic self harm

{PRESS PLAY}

I was up for all of last night restlessly tossing around. It was horrible. Gerard had tried so hard to help me fall asleep and stay asleep, but it didn't work. Nothing worked. He was awake with me for a while, but I felt guilty for keeping him up. So I made him go to sleep.

Every part of my body ached. Gerard offered to take me to the doctor, but I didn't think I had any viruses or anything that could be contagious. I didn't even feel sick, either. I just felt severely unmotivated to even lift a finger.

Somehow, I convinced Gerard to go to work in the morning. He insisted on staying home with me, but I didn't want him to have to take off work for something as stupid as this.

It was a bad idea, though. I wished that he could have stayed and been here with me.

To make it worse, my boss back at Alternative Press Magazine emailed me this morning, wanting me to create another page on Panic! At The Disco and show it to him by tonight.

I physically could not get out of bed. I kept the lights off and windows closed, making it as dark as possible in the bedroom. I didn't eat, sleep, or move in general. The horrible feeling settled in my head, and I began to grow depressed. Now, I felt both physically and mentally sick.

Once I actually got up, I took anti-depressants. They weren't much of a help, due to the lack of food in my system. There were more than I wanted to take, but I knew it would be no use to swallow them at this point.

So there I laid, on the bathroom floor, for two and a half hours. My left hand covered my face, as I continued to get sucked deeper and deeper into the black hole of depression. My knees curled up to my chest, and my hands shook from hunger.

Hoping that Gerard would be back soon, I shut my eyes.

But my eyes were opened by another thought that somehow managed to sneak into my head.

With the help of the wall, I sat myself upright and opened the cupboards under the sink. I dug around and looked for one thing in particular.

After a few minutes, I had found it. It took me a while to try and figure out how to get the blade out, but I eventually succeeded. Over and over again I asked myself if I really wanted to do this.

I figured a place where I could hide it easily was on my thigh. I rolled my grey sweatpants up to my mid-thigh and stared at the pale skin for a few seconds. I brushed the small blade lightly across my thigh. It hurt, but not enough.

That only took a fraction of my stress away. I dug deeper the second time, and made a longer mark. There was one problem though, it wasn't enough to satisfy me.

I looked at the time on my phone, and immediately dropped the blade. Blood poured from the two open gashes, and I winced. It was three o'clock in the afternoon. Gerard would be home any time now. I quickly wiped the blood off with toilet paper and pulled my pant leg down. As for the blade, I threw it back into the cupboard and hoped for the best.

When Gerard was home, I didn't make a sound. I was laying on the hard bathroom floor again, old tears staining my face. I couldn't get up even if I tried. I heard him wander around the house calling my name, until he had gotten to the bathroom.

I had realized I made another mistake of leaving the door wide open.

He said my name again, this time slowly and calmly. He slowly lowered down to sit on his knees next to me, and lifted my head into his lap.

"Talk to me," he said softly and moved my hair away from my eyes.

"Gerard, I-I can't do this anymore. I don't want to be depressed like this." I closed my eyes.

He shook his head and stroked my hair. "You have so much ahead of you in life. You can't quit now. You need to stay, with me."

"What do I have ahead of me besides stress?" I let a single tear fall from my eye.

"Anything you want," Gerard told me and leaned down to wipe the tear with his thumb. "You're capable of doing so many great things in your life."

I sat up in attempt to cover it up, but Gerard noticed the small red lines soaking through my sweatpants before I did. He frowned at it.

"I-I'm sorry. It was the only way I could get rid of all the stress." I choked.

He shook his head again. "It's not a healthy way to relieve stress. Next time I'm going to stay home from work. I'm sorry for not staying with you today."

"It's not your fault," I told him. "I didn't really know how bad it would get."

He pulled me up into his lap and held me there, wrapping his arms around my waist and put his face in the back of my shoulder. "I'm never leaving you."