I didn't think about the reaction my actions would cause; I just went over and knocked the drink from his hand. I heard the glass hit the floor and smash, and I glanced down to see shards in among the amber liquid. The conversation died down momentarily, but I kept my eyes fixed on Gerard, who was giving me a look as if I'd just killed his brother and pissed on the body. His glare said that this wasn't my funeral, but it may as well be.
There was a pause of thirteen seconds, as I felt eyes on Gerard and I, and then everyone started talking again. Not once did I break eye-contact with him, anger flooding my veins. How dare he? How dare he do such a thing? He'd been lying to me for weeks - months, probably. The blood rushed in my ears, and the word 'liar' screamed at me, over and over. Liar, liar, liar, liar -
I was going to kill him, and then I was going to kill Bert.
"What the fuck was that for?" He hissed.
"I could say the same to you." I hissed back, not even flinching when his jaw clenched. If I wasn't mistaken, he looked like he wanted to hit me. "What happened to three years of sobriety?"
"It's one drink, Frankie."
"It seems to me like it's been more than one, actually."
He rolled his eyes. "I told you this would happen." He said to the barman, who was innocently passing and looked like a deer caught in headlights the second my boyfriend addressed him.
"He's an ex-alcoholic." I spat at the barman, who recoiled, and I felt a tiny stab of guilt, because it wasn't his fault. "I reckon he neglected to tell you that."
"Thanks, Frank. I really wanted the whole of New Jersey to know."
"I'm surprised they don't know already, with the way you've been acting."
"I haven't been acting like anything." Finally, cleaners swarmed in to clear up the mess on the floor. "You're the one that came marching up like some uptight bitch -"
"Oh, so I'm supposed to just let you carry on drinking? What was it that you told me drinking did to you?"
"Shut. The. Fuck. Up. You don't know what you're talking about."
"I know enough." I held up three fingers. "How many fingers am I holding up?"
He slapped them away. "I'm not drunk!"
"You clearly fucking are!"
"We're not having this conversation here." He slipped off the stool, grabbing my wrist and making me wince as a sting shot up my arm. He practically dragged me outside, past everyone, who was watching us by now, and he spun me around to face him once we were out in the rain. "This is your best friend's funeral! Are you determined to spoil everything? Are you determined to ruin it for everyone else because oh no, it's not so perfect anymore?!"
I wrenched my arm from his grip, holding it to my chest. "You don't feel any remorse, do you?"
"Remorse?" He scoffed, swaying the tiniest bit. I'd never seen him drunk, and I'd never wanted to. Now he was giving me exactly what I didn't want. "What do I have to feel remorseful for? I was just enjoying a quiet drink, away from everyone."
"There's a difference between enjoying a quiet drink and getting completely wrecked!"
"I'm not drunk!" He yelled, and I still didn't flinch, even when he grabbed my jacket and yanked me closer to him. "Why won't you get it into your stupid fucking head?! I am not drunk!"
"That's the sort of think a drunk person would say." My voice wavered, and he let go, scowling at me. "I told you having Bert in the house was a bad idea. I told you he would bring you down. I told you -" I stopped when I saw him chuckling, shaking his head. "What?"
"You're so determined to blame everything on him...you can't see what's falling apart right in front of you." He looked me up and down. "God, you're so gullible. And naïve."
"Stop it, Gerard. Stop it."
"You're just a stupid kid!"
"I'm not a kid anymore, Gerard!" I took a step back, away from him.
"You sure as hell are acting like one. Grow up, for fuck sake. You're supposed to be eighteen."
"Why are you talking to me like you're my teacher?!"
"Because I was your teacher, and that's what I'll always be to you!"
By now, a few people had gathered in the doorway to watch our argument. I was determined not to let him see me cry, because that would just give his drunken self even more ammunition to tear me apart.
"I hate this side of you." I said, my eyes meeting his.
"Then you sure don't love the rest of me, sugar." He replied, before turning on his heel and storming back inside.
I couldn't go in after him, and I couldn't face my friends. I stayed in the rain, staring at the floor with my arms wrapped around myself. I felt humiliated and betrayed; was that what he really thought of me? Was I just a - a stupid, naïve kid? Just gullible? Just...nothing?
I walked away, away from the hotel, away from his slurs, away from everything and everyone. Several people had seen him take shots at me, and they'd all seen them hit their target. His words buzzed around my head, stinging like furious wasps, and I fiercely wiped a hand under my eyes, certain I was crying.
Even as the rain began to dry up, I couldn't stop walking. I didn't know where I was going, but I honestly didn't care. My body shook, but from anger or cold, I wasn't sure. Probably both. It was sure to be both.
I didn't know whether to trust his words. Maybe I had been so determined to blame Bert for everything that I couldn't see that he'd been doing this himself. It would explain a lot. Then again, it wouldn't.
It was more fucked that I could ever have imagined.
I ended up outside my mom's house, and I stared up at it, trying to get my breathing under control. I couldn't go and knock on the front door; I'd barely spoken to my mom since I'd left for New York, and I suddenly regretted ever leaving. My friends were here, my family...everything I had was in New Jersey, and I'd just left it behind for some stupid teacher.
Before my mom or stepdad or whoever the fuck was in could open the door, I continued walking, feeling hot tears run down my face. I twisted my promise ring around my finger, knowing that everything he'd said was lies, knowing that everything I'd said had just fallen on deaf ears.
My phone vibrated in my pocket and I ignored it, the same way I ignored the sting in my arm, the throb of an oncoming headache. I ignored it all.
I didn't know where I was going, but somehow I ended up at a familiar house, and without thinking I went up and knocked on the door. There were footsteps, the scrape of a chain, and then the door swung open to reveal someone I'd neither seen nor spoken to for way too long.
His eyes widened, and he ran a hand over the stubble on his chin. "Frank? What the -"
I gave him a guilty smile. "Hey, Bob."
He swallowed heavily. He hadn't changed much; he'd grown out his hair a bit, still had that stupid lip ring, that kind of thing. "Last I heard, you'd fucked off to New York."
I winced. "Uh...yeah. Yeah, I left not too long ago. I'm...I'm in Jersey for a funeral."
"Oh..." He stepped back, letting me in, and once inside, I kicked off my shoes and followed him into the front room, aware of my dripping suit and the horrific state I was in. "Why are you here if you're meant to be at a funeral?"
I shrugged, hovering in the doorway as he grabbed me a towel. "I'm not sure if I'm honest. I, er, had an argument with my boyfriend -" he tensed slightly. "- and then walked away, ending up here."
"This the asshole I still haven't met?" I nodded slowly, sitting down on one of the couches as I attempted to dry my hair. "Bastard. What happened?"
I shrugged again, and my phone started up with its persistent ringing. He sat beside me, lifting one of his legs and resting the foot on his knee.
"You should answer it. Your friends might be worried." He said quietly.
I shook my head, my eyes on my hands, which were clasped in my lap. "No, they won't. They've got better things to do than worry about me."
"Frank -"
"I don't want to answer it. I don't want to talk to them." I fished my phone from my pocket and handed it to him. "Look after it for me - if you have it, I won't answer it. Hide it and turn it off."
"That isn't such a good idea."
"I don't care."
He sighed, getting to his feet. "Do you want a coffee?"
I nodded, shivering. "You got any clothes I could borrow?"
"You know where they are."
I stood up and went through to his room, a place I'd been in many times before, especially before I'd met Gerard. He still had his posters, the mess - clothes and magazines and typical teenage boy junk - the desk, the bed. The same bed I'd lost my virginity on.
I snorted to myself at the thought, unable to keep myself from smiling, and I stripped off. I was holding my sodden suit, dressed in just my underwear, when Bob walked in, carrying two mugs. He faltered momentarily, staring at me, before setting the mugs on his desk and taking my suit.
"I'll dry it for you." He said, his voice cracking a little, and he left the room. When he returned, I still wasn't dressed, and he blinked. "Are - are you gonna get dressed?"
"Right. Sorry." I pulled out a random shirt, sweater and pair of sweatpants and threw them on before flopping onto his bed.
"Where are you staying? I can't imagine you're doing a there-and-back trip in one day, and there's no way your mom will let you and your boyfriend stay in her house." He raised an eyebrow, sitting on his bed and crossing his legs.
"Boyfriend's brother's." I grumbled, sitting up.
"Bet that's awkward."
I shrugged. "We haven't actually...done anything...for weeks. It's pretty quiet."
He snorted laughter. "It's pretty quiet? Dude, I know how loud you can be."
"Oh shut up." I shoved him. "Don't bring that up now."
"Why not? You started it." He grinned wickedly. "Oh Bob! Harder! Please, harder!"
"Shut the fuck up!" I threw a pillow at him, but he continued, laughing as he did so.
"Right there! Oh, oh, right there! Fuck, fuck me harder, please!"
I tackled him to the bed, unable to fight the smile that spread on my face. He laughed harder as I pinned his arms above his head, straddling his waist.
"Shut up, oh my God." I said, to which he shrugged.
I was once told that I had a certain disregard for rules. If I was that, then Bob completely ripped up the rulebook; all of a sudden he'd flipped us over and we were kissing. I stupidly let it happen, the warm, familiar feeling pooling in my stomach and spreading to my limbs.
And then I came to my senses, realised what I was doing, and I pushed him off of me, getting to my feet. Without saying a word, ignoring him calling my name, I found my phone in the bread bin and stuffed my feet into my shoes, forgetting about my suit and leaving. I couldn't believe what I'd just done. I had to get as far away from there as possible.
I turned my phone on and saw calls from nearly everyone in my contacts list - but Gerard wasn't one of them. There was even one from the guy I most wanted to talk to, so I took a deep breath, and I dialled the number.
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Yoooo two updates in one week I deserve a medal or some shit ayyyyy;) I kid I kid ofc
I'm not gonna be on much next week, I'm on half term and no Internet *sigh* but I'll see what I can do :3
I also entered TMIABM into the wattys, so please share the fuck out of it, tell all your friends, tell twitter, tell tumblr, whatever :) anything you can do to promote it will be awesome :3
Thanks Pete,
-xøcharr <3