HEYHEYHEYHEY!! I'm sorry if I updated late (idk, I'm sorry, I lost track of time and the school pressure is all I can feel right now...and it sucks). I was supposed to update last night but I was in a frien'ds house, doing some music for our cultural presentation for Asian History.
Okay, enough about my whereabouts, on with the story!!
Chapter Twenty-Nine: “Gerard, We Can’t.”
- Gerard -
Today, they’re moving me out.
Out from the prison and, into a hospital.
Do I feel better about this? No. Absolutely not.
You see, the reason why I got arrested was because right after I went down Chelsea’s apartment, I walked two streets until I reached this house party that this boy from my younger brother’s batch organized and, well, I crashed it, and, beat some guy’s ass.
It must’ve been bad that I ended up in here.
And not because of attempted rape.
While a part of me is glad that Chelsea isn’t making any appropriate action, the better half of me was looking down at me with disgust. And guilt was what I was feeling most of the time now.
I want to talk to her.
I need to talk to her.
But how do I escape the constant fussing over by the nurses? It’s not as if I’m actually a prisoner from that jailhouse. I was just detained.
“Mikey,” I whisper at the younger male beside me. He flinched from his seat and looked at me, surprised that I was talking to him.
“Did Billie contact you in any way?” I ask, leaning towards him. He shook his head.
“Sorry, Gee.”
And, after that, he turned away, going back to reading his inbox in his phone. I sigh heavily, tears pooling in my eyes. Ever since I had stared (or…re-started) drinking, he became more distant and I know why…
He’s probably ashamed of having a fuck up for a brother.
He’s so much better than me.
“Mikey…” I whisper again.
“What?” he suddenly snapped, glaring down at me.
Suddenly, I felt something scramble back inside of me as I grew silent, just staring at the ceiling, avoiding Mikey’s look.
I felt a hand touch my own and I turn to my left, in time to see Mikey look sadly down at me and mutter, “I’m sorry…it’s just…I want you to be better so bad and then here you go again and I hate seeing you like that and…”
His voice broke and I reached up and hugged him.
“I’m so so sorry…I broke my promise. I’m sorry, Mikes,” I sigh heavily as I felt his tears drop onto my shoulder. “I shouldn’t have. I’m such a fuck up…you don’t deserve this…I’ll be better.”
His head nods and I smile gently, letting go.
“I hate crying,” he sniffs, looking down at his shoes.
“You can’t help it, it’s who you are.”
“Are you insulting me?! You bitch!”
And, just like that, we were three steps to being the normal (yet still kinda weird) Way brothers that we are.
-
A sudden knock on the door made me jump underneath the covers and, hastily put my psychology book down.
Hey, shut up. Even when I’m not at school, I still need to study.
“Come in!” I said (or more like, retched out of my throat). My shoulders slumped when Lindsey got through the door.
I was expecting it to be Billie.
Because, somehow, he always manages to know everything that’s happened. Whether someone told him or if he heard.
“How’re you feeling?” she asked me quietly, setting down a small box of pizza on the side.
I shrug, motioning to the knuckles on my right hand, “except for this, I think I’m fine.”
She nods and looks down at her shoes, biting her lip. For some reason, I don’t feel like talking to her right now but the greater half of me says something like, “how about you? How’re you feeling?”
She smiles, still avoiding my eyes, “I think I’m fine.”
I reach for her hand and take it. “I’m sorry,” I began, tears already pricking my eyes. “It’s my entire fault that you look so tired right now…it’s my fault, it’s…”
She engulfed me in a massive hug, stroking my back lovingly, but doesn’t say anything. I felt myself relax into her hug as few stray tears trickled down my cheek.
“Gerard, just -- just get better, okay?” I heard her say gently. “I hate seeing you so broken like this. I hate it so fucking much,” she breathes out and I was almost positive that tears came alone with it.
I nod against her shoulder, gasping for air. More sobs coming from me.
The door was slightly open, a gap in the door seen and, I try not to gasp aloud as I saw someone reminiscent of Chelsea Rhone take a peek then walk away.
-
My eyelids were drooping heavily as I fought to stay awake, staring at the small television screen. I switched it to the Discovery Channel, in hopes that tonight’s segment would keep me awake.
Apparently, it’s NOT working.
“Oh, God,” I groan slightly, trying to fight off the drug that they just administered me.
Damn, I hope I could get my hands on a --
Knock, knock.
I regain my almost-bored expression as I called out, in a much louder voice now, “come in!”
My breath hitched in my throat as Chelsea Rhone instinctively peeked inside first then stepped inside my hospital room, leaving her jacket on. “Gerard,” she greeted curtly, looking blankly ahead.
This new Chelsea was scaring me so I replied with a, “Hi, Chelsea…”
She pulled out two venti cups of coffee from Starbucks and handed one to me. “Thought you might need it,” she grins, as if nothing had happened between the two of us days previous.
She opens her cup and takes a sip as I tell her, “y’know, you don’t have to be nice to me just because I got beat up. In all honesty, I actually think I deserved what I got.”
She reached out for my cup and opens it for me, urging me to take a sip, “I didn’t say that you didn’t deserve it.”
My hand took the cup from her hand and began to take a sip.
“And I didn’t get you coffee because I’m being nice,” were the last words I heard from her before I began spitting out the honey-flavoured coffee onto the sheets.
“Fuck, Chelsea!” I exclaim, “You know I hate this flavour.”
She only smiles, “I told you I’m not being nice to you.”
But instead of getting mad at her because she got my hopes up at just the sound of ‘coffee,’ I laugh and, as I did, I felt this wave of nostalgia hit.
She seemed to feel it as well, as she leaned back on her chair, away from me. “I’m not gonna report to the police,” she mumbled, looking around as if someone might hear, “you were drunk and I know that you weren’t thinking straight.”
I felt my mouth go dry, “w-what?” I sputtered out, “are you serious?”
She nods and my heart leaps at the relief. Silence has covered us once again and I found myself staring in her eyes, getting closer, closing the gap between us as we kissed.
The familiar green orbs fluttered shut as I moved my lips against hers slowly, gently, like when we were --
“Gerard, we can’t,” she shook her head, pulling away as fast as she could, grabbing at the cup of coffee she had left on the hospital’s nightstand.
“We both have relationships right now,” she said cautiously, standing up.
“B-but maybe we can --,” I stutter.
“No,” she shook her head firmly. “You’re not in your right mind right now, I have to go.”
And, without another word, there she was, stumbling out of my hospital door.
She’s so good at running away. So fucking good.
Aaaaand, that's a wrap!
Just wondering, do any of you guys like sushi? I like the Korean sushi better than the Japanese, though.......
Okay, you guys know ze drill ;) Love y'all!!
xo,
T.