Okay, I won't say much right now since I'm the middle of writing a news article for Journalism but, yeah...Here goes chapter thirty-three, loves!!
Chapter Thirty-Three: “My Own Fucked-Up Version Of Revenge.”
- Billie -
It felt as if my entire body was frozen on the spot, my mouth open and, eyes staring at Gerard.
It took both of us few moments to get down from the high of the situation. Gerard was first to recover.
“Was that what you wanted to hear before you could beat me senseless? Well, there it goes,” Gerard managed to mumble light-heartedly, “you could go beat me up now.”
“G-Gerard…you still…what? Is this a joke?” I ask him, laughing in distress.
He shook his head, “you heard me, Armstrong.”
My feet backed up to the arm chair once more; I sat down, my hands half-covering my face, “oh my God…” a thought suddenly buries itself in my brain. “What about Lindsey? Don’t you love her?”
His eyes widen, as he claims, “I do! I do love her, she’s amazing.”
I almost exhale in relief after he said those words but then…
“But Chelsea is different. She’s…she was my…I still love her, Billie…God, I’ll be kidding myself if I said I don’t,” Gerard sighed in desperation, looking at me with a pleading look.
“But I love Chelsea,” I say, looking in his hazel eyes.
“I know,” came his muffled voice from between his hands. He looked up at me with watery eyes, “I know that it’s wrong and downright pathetic since we fell apart such a long time ago…but I can’t help being jealous, Billie. Every-fucking-time I see you with her…and that kiss you shared in that park -- that, that broke me!”
I just sat and stared, ready for the things that Gerard might tell me. Heck, this is going to be the second time in two days that I’ll know things that I didn’t know can happen in real life.
“Well, if you love her so much,” I started, getting Gerard’s attention. “Why did you set me up to date her? I mean, you were single when we met…” I mentioned, my eyes averting from his to the creamy white ceiling.
“Because I was mad at her for leaving,” was his simple answer and let it hung over our heads. “She just left without telling anyone except her neighbour’s cat! Like what the hell kind of goodbye is that, you know?”
He was standing up, pacing the room. I remained seated on the chair, hoping that he’ll say more without me asking; I’ve never seen him this agitated yet so desperate.
Like he seemed so eager to let everything out.
“It’s my own fucked-up version for revenge. Remember when Chelsea found out about the dare in the library?” he turned to me briefly; I nodded. “I had hoped that she will feel like shit…reminiscent of what I felt back when she left that goddamned town.”
My mind was too in shock to form words so I just managed something like a hand gesture that tells him to go on.
He does, “when you gave me the dare to date Lindsey, I took it as a chance to forget about Chelsea, you know,” he laughs slightly, although I failed to see what was so humorous in the situation, “and, thank God that, somehow, it worked.
“But every time I see her, my mind just brings me back to Jersey and plays these moments that are way to fucking precious to let go of and it sucks. I love Lindsey,” he adds, “but being with Chelsea is an entirely different feeling. She gave me something like freedom and not giving a shit to people who don’t know me…”
Who knew that Gerard had a poet within him?
“Maybe you were right, Billie,” he suddenly brings up and I look up at him, confused. “Maybe you were right about the two of us not talking about this -- the separation. The fallout.”
“We were friends…why didn’t you tell us anything?” I asked curiously, feeling the slightest bit hurt emerge from inside me. Is he saying that we’re not trustworthy enough?
He shook his head, “I wasn’t going to be a fucking living autobiography of my-fucking-self, you know…and it’s not because I don’t trust you.”
“Then what would the reason be? We’ve been hanging out for the past two years and I could still count how many things I know about you. And Mikey,” I added hastily, just realizing how Mikey seemed so closed-off as well.
“To put it bluntly, I was scared,” he deadpanned, looking at me straight at the eye, “Scared that whenever she would pass by, you guys would all be like ‘hey, Gerard, your ex is over there’ or something like that. Another reason would be because of the image we both formed as we entered this school.”
He sighs, “I was the badass one while she became the nerd; the entire opposite of what we were back in New Jersey. We changed already and I had hoped that my feelings toward her would do the same.
“You wanna know how I fell in love with her?” he asked me with this really innocent voice that I’ve never heard he used and I was taken aback. Do I want to know? Oh, but I have to.
I nod my head.
"CHELSEA RHONE!" a voice barked from the front; Mr. Franklin was glaring at the newbie, whose head rested on her arms, obviously sleeping.
The girl's head snapped up and looked at the teacher innocently, sitting up straighter and rubbing her eyes free from all sleep before answering softly in the high-pitched, baby-like voice of hers, "yes, sir?"
Gerard Way looked rather nervously at his new classmate, Chelsea Rhone, who was just recently, during the first day, caught sleeping through their Algebra teacher's discussion. Hell, he would've also slept if he wanted to -- wait, he did want to -- but, being the responsible student that he was, forced to keep his eyes open.
"It seems you already know today's lesson, Ms. Rhone," Mr. Franklin started slyly before raising his voice once more. "Mind if you answer problem number 14 -- "
"Letter A's answer is k equal to 9 and, in letter B, y is equal to 630," the girl answered, showing an aura of boredom, not even bothering to stand up at the teacher's question. Mr. Franklin -- and the rest of the class -- could only stare at her in shock. Chelsea smirked at the teacher's expression then added, "maybe, sir, your problems might even be more challenging if you wouldn't copy them off the book...you're disgracing its author."
Gerard gaped at her openly and, upon registering the words she had said, prevented himself from laughing.
Mr. Franklin was furious but his voice remained calm, "detention for you, Ms. Chelsea. Lunch. Meet me in my office."
He began to face the whiteboard once more and was about to continue explaining how Chelsea's answer was right when Chelsea snapped out.
"And what are you going to make me do? Give me extra work? I've read the entire book, sir, and researched heavily on this subject too...I think extra worksheets would just be in my advantage."
Mr. Franklin chucked the marker at her head but his aim was bad and ricocheted off the wall behind her instead before screaming, "OUT! GET OUT OF MY CLASSROOM! NO LUNCH BREAK FOR YOU AND AN EXTRA HOUR AFTER DISMISSAL. GET OUT!"
Gerard gasped at how mad their teacher looked. Although it wasn't the first time he saw a teacher freaking out, this was definitely the worst he's ever seen. He watched as Chelsea got up from her desk, picking up the rest of things and cramming them quickly inside her shoulder bag before standing up and muttering under her breath, "gladly."
The door closed slowly behind her.
Mr. Franklin was fuming, still. His nostrils were flaring and his face red as a tomato.
While Gerard should feel sorry for the teacher (to be disrespected like that), he couldn’t help but to stare at the door where the blonde named Chelsea Rhone just disappeared from.
And, as he closed his eyes, there it was -- her face -- burned into his memory.
“See? We’ve changed…a lot,” Gerard shook his head, smiling. “And I wouldn’t want to disturb that sense of calm, right?”
I nod my head, unsure of what to say. For now, I was rather content to just sit down and let Gerard have the floor after two years of me on it.
Looking back, I may have been a bit selfish.
“But then she left. That one April morning, she left, without any explanations, without -- nothing,” he was dozing off again, like how he did as he was telling me the story of how he fell in love with Chelsea. “All we got was a word from her neighbour when we tried to visit. She didn’t tell any of us. You -- you should’ve seen Arianna’s face,” he added hastily, like he just remembered it, “her childhood friend? I wouldn’t expect you to know her but, yeah, she was heartbroken over the news. Arianna was expecting something as small as a text or a simple phone call but there was nothing.
“You know how much THAT hurt me, Billie? You know how much? I started drinking and, even when Frank first met Mikey, I was still so fucking depressed. Frank was the one,” his lips tugged upwards at the sides as he said it, “Frank was the one that brought me back. Along with Mikey’s effort and, my parents’ support. They never sent me to rehab because they thought it was just a stupid love thing…but it wasn’t. Not for me, Billie. Chelsea wasn’t just a love thing.
“And I know that I’m not in a position to make threats right now, seeing as I am at fault on whatever Chelsea’s condition is but…if you hurt her, even though I know that it’ll never happen, I’ll fucking kill you.”
The look in his eyes was enough to scare me to death but I fought back, looking back at his hazel eyes, daring him.
“I won’t. That I can promise you.”
He nods as he sits back down on his side of the bed, exhaling in relief, his eyes widening slightly at the fact that he managed to say what he had wanted to say ever since.
Or, at least, that’s what I think he’s thinking right now.
“So, what are you planning on doing now? You love Lindsey but…you still love Chelsea,” I mumble the last part awkwardly. It was weird; feeling the words roll out of my tongue just like that, even though I’m only trying to tell Gerard something.
He shakes his head, “I don’t -- in fact, I…you know what? Let’s not talk about that.”
I bite my upper lip, “Gerard, not talking about it won’t help you in any way…it’ll only eat you up from the inside,” I stand up; taking the messenger bag I had brought along with me and, slinging it on my shoulder. “But what I’m trying to say is…just try to talk to her, you know. At least you’ll feel the closure.”
I nod one last time before walking to the door and, as my hand got a hold on the door knob, Gerard’s voice came from the direction of the bed.
“Tell her I’m sorry.”
I shake my head and keep my head on the door while saying, “I still think you need to talk to her.”
I don’t wait for any other reply as I opened the door and walked out of his hospital room, my heart breaking into tinier pieces as I did.
So...what're you guys up to these days? I'm just really busy since it's our last trimester for the entire school year and, well...TWO MORE WEEKS THEN SUMMER, HU-WOW!
Time flies by so fast.
I love you all <33
xo,
T.