On The Other Side Of This Jet Black Hotel Mirror [[8/8]]
Title: On The Other Side Of This Jet Black Hotel Mirror [[8/8]]
Author: howXiXdisappear
Pairing: Gerard/Frank
Rating: R
POV: Gerard's
Summary: Because death is much friendlier, much more welcoming than the truth. Death...is so much easier to achieve. And truth...I know that I might never learn it, no matter how hard I try, or how much pain I go through hoping to learn it. Thinking I know it.
Disclaimer: ...it's not real.
Author Notes: So, I doubt anyone remembers this old thing. It's pretty damn old, but I realized that I never posted the last chapter even though it was written almost two years ago. Better late than never, right? So here's the end. I can now officially say that I have finished a chaptered fic-woot woot.
Warnings: Abuse. Swearing. Insanity.
Previous Chapters: here
We are...
Destroyed. You don't want to admit it, I know. In fact, you refuse to. YOu have yourself ensnared in the tangled arms of denial, who is far too strong for you to overcome.
But it's the truth, Frank.
We are destroyed. Broken. Shattered.
The oh so fragile strings that once tied us together have been cut- torn- apart.
And I don't think that anything could even begin to put us back together.
I tore the needs out today.
Please to be too angry. They hurt so much, even when I just looked at them. Nurse yelled at me already.
But I don't really care. She doesn't know anything.
Nothing about Fear, or living in a nightmare, or not knowing the truth. She never felt the great desire to just end like I do.
Because death is much friendlier, much more welcoming than the truth.
Death...
is so much easier to achieve.
And truth...I know that I might never learn it, no matter how hard I try, or how much pain I go through hoping to learn it.
Thinking I know it....
I've got a new room. A new room once again coated with white walls.
These walls, however, never provide that sense of protection that the ones at the pysch ward gave me.
These walls are unwelcoming, uncaring, and so much like that box I was locked in when you were the cat and I was the mouse.
Frankie, I am still the mouse. Trapped.
My arms strapped to the bed so that I can't detach myself from the cruel machines and needles that keep me alive.
But you are no longer the cat.
It's there terrifying white walls. They hate me.
"Hey, babe..." Your voice is the first thing I wake up to today. You sit on the side of my bed, your thumb caressing the side of my face.
I say nothing, only stare up at you.
Not into your eyes though. It's still too hard.
"Gee...I'm so sorry," You mutter as your hand moves down to the straps incarcerating my arms. Still, I say nothing.
Instead, I look away. This is all your fault.
Life has become a pattern.
I go to sleep sobbing. I wake up screaming. I don't say a single word the entire day. But I move- or at least try to- a lot.
Struggling to pull away, break free. And by the en dof the day I'm so frusterated, so worn out. Feeling defeated. I cry myself to sleep.
And start over in the morning.
Screaming. Struggling. I think you come in and oout over the course of the day. Watching. Never helping me though.
I know you're here when I go to sleep and when I awake each morning. Calming me so Nurse won't feel the need to stab me.
Tell me. Is it at all painful for you to watch? To know that we are losing?
That...I am losing my mind.
That's what I think. I wasn't crazy before. But it's the hospitals, the drugs meant to help me, the doctors and nurses and needles.
They are making me lose my mind. They are the one swho have implanted doubt into my mind. They confused me, slowly led me to the point where I now feel like I'm a bomb about to explode.
And I'll take everyone down with me too. 'Cause that's what insanity does, right?
Day by day, I can feel myself breaking apart. Frankie, please help me...this is what this hell hole is doing to me. Please get me out of here. Take me home.
Use me. Abuse me. Let me abuse myself if thats what was really happening.
I don't care.
Please just let me get out of here...
You know. Thank God you know. I cling on to you the entire way home, shaking. Still not fully believing that they let you take me.
That they really did believe you when you said that you could take care of me. Mikey has to be there too though...just in case. He said he's moving in with us tomorrow.
Maybe I was wrong, Frankie. Maybe we really aren't destroyed. But I don't know. Not yet.
Stories are supposed to have happy endings, aren't they, Frankie? After al lthe evil, the pain, the suffering has passed, they're finally able to be okay.
For once.
I feel okay right now. And even though that's because of the pills I have to take, I think that maybe I really can be okay someday.
Someday soon.
And maybe we can have a happy ending, just like you said.
But I don't want to think about this right now. Now, I'm just going to sleep. And for the first time in so long, I can do it without any help from my tears.
All I need right now is your arms wrapped around me.
I love you.
.end.
Author: howXiXdisappear
Pairing: Gerard/Frank
Rating: R
POV: Gerard's
Summary: Because death is much friendlier, much more welcoming than the truth. Death...is so much easier to achieve. And truth...I know that I might never learn it, no matter how hard I try, or how much pain I go through hoping to learn it. Thinking I know it.
Disclaimer: ...it's not real.
Author Notes: So, I doubt anyone remembers this old thing. It's pretty damn old, but I realized that I never posted the last chapter even though it was written almost two years ago. Better late than never, right? So here's the end. I can now officially say that I have finished a chaptered fic-woot woot.
Warnings: Abuse. Swearing. Insanity.
Previous Chapters: here
We are...
Destroyed. You don't want to admit it, I know. In fact, you refuse to. YOu have yourself ensnared in the tangled arms of denial, who is far too strong for you to overcome.
But it's the truth, Frank.
We are destroyed. Broken. Shattered.
The oh so fragile strings that once tied us together have been cut- torn- apart.
And I don't think that anything could even begin to put us back together.
I tore the needs out today.
Please to be too angry. They hurt so much, even when I just looked at them. Nurse yelled at me already.
But I don't really care. She doesn't know anything.
Nothing about Fear, or living in a nightmare, or not knowing the truth. She never felt the great desire to just end like I do.
Because death is much friendlier, much more welcoming than the truth.
Death...
is so much easier to achieve.
And truth...I know that I might never learn it, no matter how hard I try, or how much pain I go through hoping to learn it.
Thinking I know it....
I've got a new room. A new room once again coated with white walls.
These walls, however, never provide that sense of protection that the ones at the pysch ward gave me.
These walls are unwelcoming, uncaring, and so much like that box I was locked in when you were the cat and I was the mouse.
Frankie, I am still the mouse. Trapped.
My arms strapped to the bed so that I can't detach myself from the cruel machines and needles that keep me alive.
But you are no longer the cat.
It's there terrifying white walls. They hate me.
"Hey, babe..." Your voice is the first thing I wake up to today. You sit on the side of my bed, your thumb caressing the side of my face.
I say nothing, only stare up at you.
Not into your eyes though. It's still too hard.
"Gee...I'm so sorry," You mutter as your hand moves down to the straps incarcerating my arms. Still, I say nothing.
Instead, I look away. This is all your fault.
Life has become a pattern.
I go to sleep sobbing. I wake up screaming. I don't say a single word the entire day. But I move- or at least try to- a lot.
Struggling to pull away, break free. And by the en dof the day I'm so frusterated, so worn out. Feeling defeated. I cry myself to sleep.
And start over in the morning.
Screaming. Struggling. I think you come in and oout over the course of the day. Watching. Never helping me though.
I know you're here when I go to sleep and when I awake each morning. Calming me so Nurse won't feel the need to stab me.
Tell me. Is it at all painful for you to watch? To know that we are losing?
That...I am losing my mind.
That's what I think. I wasn't crazy before. But it's the hospitals, the drugs meant to help me, the doctors and nurses and needles.
They are making me lose my mind. They are the one swho have implanted doubt into my mind. They confused me, slowly led me to the point where I now feel like I'm a bomb about to explode.
And I'll take everyone down with me too. 'Cause that's what insanity does, right?
Day by day, I can feel myself breaking apart. Frankie, please help me...this is what this hell hole is doing to me. Please get me out of here. Take me home.
Use me. Abuse me. Let me abuse myself if thats what was really happening.
I don't care.
Please just let me get out of here...
You know. Thank God you know. I cling on to you the entire way home, shaking. Still not fully believing that they let you take me.
That they really did believe you when you said that you could take care of me. Mikey has to be there too though...just in case. He said he's moving in with us tomorrow.
Maybe I was wrong, Frankie. Maybe we really aren't destroyed. But I don't know. Not yet.
Stories are supposed to have happy endings, aren't they, Frankie? After al lthe evil, the pain, the suffering has passed, they're finally able to be okay.
For once.
I feel okay right now. And even though that's because of the pills I have to take, I think that maybe I really can be okay someday.
Someday soon.
And maybe we can have a happy ending, just like you said.
But I don't want to think about this right now. Now, I'm just going to sleep. And for the first time in so long, I can do it without any help from my tears.
All I need right now is your arms wrapped around me.
I love you.
.end.